


Reconnection

by Dragonlingdar



Category: Octopath Traveler (Video Game)
Genre: Awkward new beginnings, Communication, D/s relationship, Drama & Romance, Emotional Baggage, Emotional Maturity, F/F, F/M, Letters, M/M, Past Relationship(s), Rekindled Romance, Slow Burn, Slow Romance
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-03-16
Updated: 2019-11-20
Packaged: 2019-11-21 23:11:29
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 9
Words: 42,292
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18126380
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dragonlingdar/pseuds/Dragonlingdar
Summary: One letter was all it took to bring Erhardt back into Olberic's life and begin a whole new journey...





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Because of paranoia from the trauma of yore, I would like to specify that I am playing with the characters and world, and own nothing.
> 
> Olberic being a giggly drunk makes me so incredibly happy, and knowing that he lost to Erhardt makes it even better.
> 
> I have too much fun with these men. Updates will be glacier-slow.

Olberic smiled at the courier and accepted a bag containing multiple string-bound packages from her.

“I don’t think I’ve ever seen someone receive so many letters so regularly,” she commented as Olberic handed her a few leaf for her trouble.  

“It is a good way to keep in touch with friends,” Olberic said as he cursorily examined which letters came from whom.  “News of the world outside Cobbleston is precious and welcome.”

The woman nodded.  “True that. Well, I’m sure that when I come back this way, you’ll have letters for me to deliver.  I’m enjoying the chance to visit Flamesgrace so often!”

“I’m glad I assist your explorations,” Olberic said, amused.  “Safe travels.”

“Farewell,” the courier said and carefully trotted down the rough-hewn, cobblestone stairs towards the inn, where her other deliveries would be stored until their recipients could pick them up.

Olberic turned away from the main path and returned to his home.  The door closed and latched securely behind him, he took a seat in the chair next to his bedside table, and started to sort through the letters.

Tressa had convinced them all that occasional correspondence would do them good; Cyrus heartily agreed, and thus gifted them all with ink and parchment before they parted ways.  Olberic had doubted that anyone would actually correspond until he received the first letters from Cyrus, Ophelia, and Tressa. Upon that, he felt it would have been impolite to not respond.

Olberic shook his head, amused by the memory.  

_ I’m sure my first letters were awful.  Small wonder that they bothered to reply at all. _

However, his response started a steady correspondence between the three of them, which Olberic found refreshing.  He had grown to care for their group, odd as they were. The occasional update from Alfyn or Primrose was welcome, although he had yet to get a letter from H'aanit or Therion. That in itself wasn’t surprising, as the two didn’t seem the kind to write letters in the first place.

Olberic was also kept up to date on the happenings at Victor's Hollow by Cecily.  While he hadn’t the inclination to visit his ‘second home,’ nor to ever defend his title as Champion, he enjoyed hearing about the growth of Cecily’s business and Ned’s recovery and training.  Victor’s Hollow was certainly a rowdier and more colorful place than Cobbleston. 

_ It’s strange, people taking an interest in my well-being, _ Olberic thought as he picked the first letter off the top of the package—Tressa.  He rested the remainder of the package on top of the closed, compartmentalized chest Tressa had sent him when she found out he kept all the letters.  He opened the young woman’s letter carefully and her relaxed but clear handwriting flowed across the page. 

Tressa’s letters were as upbeat as the lady herself, and while Olberic understood about a quarter of the mercantile jargon, her letters were an entertaining read.  It appeared that she had also taken a shine to a particular ‘reformed’ pirate, and while Olberic didn’t  _ approve _ , he couldn’t disapprove either—Tressa was an adult, for all that she didn’t act like it.  It was the prerogative of young adults to have their hearts broken and repaired so they were the stronger for it.  Experience was the best and harshest teacher in all facets of life. 

Olberic half-hoped that the relationship would lead nowhere, because the pirate would find himself facing down the sharp end of Tressa’s glaive if he did her wrong.  Still, he was the last person to offer relationship advice; however, he offered what insight he could if Tressa asked him directly about men. Sometimes he would respond to her questions about men even when he knew they were purely rhetorical.  The indignation he received back in her letters made his gentle teasing worthwhile.

He read through her letter three times before setting it aside and picking up a quill, ink, and parchment.  It was better if he responded immediately after finishing their letters.

_ Dear Tressa, _

_ While I appreciate your offer to send me a cookbook, I fear that it would be waste on me.  However, I believe that H’aanit mentioned something about enjoying cooking and, last I heard, she was living near Ophelia... _

By the time Olberic finished his letter to Tressa, two candle-marks had passed.  He leaned back in his chair and stretched, his shoulders and wrists popping. He grimaced, curled back in, and lightly massaged his right shoulder with his left hand.  The older soldiers hadn’t been wrong about old wounds hurting before a storm.

_ It will rain soon, _ he thought and stood.   _ I should try to get some training in before that happens.  I might as well run the children and guard through their paces as well. _

Olberic picked up his sword, strapped it to his side, and left his locked home behind—after traveling with a thief, he grew to see the merit of mild paranoia regarding the state of his belongings, so even if the other citizens of Cobbleston didn’t lock their doors, Olberic had made it a habit to do so.  

Cobbleston was always more lively after a mail delivery, and the latest was no exception.

A number of townspeople were milling about the town square, chatting about packages and letters received, as well as dissatisfaction over those that had yet to be delivered.  Cobbleston wasn’t isolated,  _ per se _ —they were on a fairly prominent road through the Highlands—but they were no city, so had to rely on traveling merchants to fill up the stock they couldn’t get off the land nearby.

“The young lady always jokes about being two stone lighter after delivering your letters, Sir Olberic,” one of the shepherds told Olberic.

Olberic chuckled and said, “Don’t let her fool you—I’m pretty sure she now has a lover in all the cities she travels to on behalf of my letters.  I doubt she’d be half as eager for my responses otherwise.”

“You really think so?” the shepherd replied, managing to be both scandalized and intrigued at once.

“It is a possibility,” Olberic said.  He hadn’t  _ known _ it was a possibility until Primrose had explained the finer points of alternative romantic relationships; as Erhardt had been fairly possessive as a lover, such would have never come up when Olberic was younger anyway.  Olberic was also sure that he wasn’t willing to put in the work to make such arrangements successful. Still, it was an eye-opening conversation.

“What do people have to write about that takes up that much parchment?” the shepherd asked.

“I’ll try to remember to use Cyrus’ letter for my next reading and writing lesson,” Olberic replied.  “Perhaps you’ll have a better idea of what  _ he _ considers important.”

Olberic had mentioned to the scholar that he used his letters for lessons, and Cyrus had promptly sent Olberic a deluge of teaching materials, most of which were beyond Olberic’s capabilities, but he appreciated the help.

“Did you receive anything?” Olberic asked.

The shepherd shook his head.  “I have no one to write to and didn’t need anything from other places.  My mom will be annoyed to not have a letter back from her sister in Flamesgrace, but, well, not everyone is good at writing as you and your friends are.”

Their conversation drew the attention of a group of nearby children, and Phillip’s eyes lit up when he caught sight of Olberic.  He trotted up to Olberic, a few other children straggling behind him. Olberic knew he still intimidated quite a few of the younger children, if only from his height alone.

“Good afternoon, Sir Olberic,” Phillip chirped.

“Good afternoon,” Olberic replied with a gentle smile.  “How are you doing today?”

“Good!” Phillip replied.  “Can we do some training today?”

“I was planning to ask you if you were up to it,” Olberic said. 

“Of course!” Phillip said, bouncing slightly on the balls of his feet.  “And Markus and Lilli want to join in. Right?”

The two aforementioned children nodded, Lilli more enthusiastically than Markus, who looked a little bewildered.  He had likely been dragged into participating due to Phillip’s force of personality more than anything else.

“Well, then, I expect the square will be clearer in a half candlemark.  Shall we meet then?”

There was a small, bright chorus of “Yes, sir!” that made Olberic smile. 

The children dispersed and Olberic wandered out of the town a small way and looked out over the rocky landscape.  

For a long time, the environment had suited his personality.  Inscrutable, stony, and with only small patches of life and comfort.  It had been as bleak as his heart, as his soul. However, the addition of the others into his life, from brilliant but oblivious Cyrus to vengeful but playful Primrose, had crumbled some of the stone and made it more fertile ground.  Olberic was glad he had traveled with them, and was glad that they refused to leave him alone.

_ After so long a darkness, the Sacred Flame illuminated my misery to reveal what it truly was—arrogance and broken pride. _

He turned, but stopped when he was facing south-west--towards the Sunlands.  

_ There is...one person whom I should write, yet have not, _ Olberic thought, his fingers tapping on the pommel of his sword.   _ Is it worth even trying, though?  What is the likelihood he will even respond? _

He stared pensively at nothing for a while, the sound of birds and the wind his only company.  

_ I’ll consider that later, _ Olberic resolved and turned back to town.   _ For now, I have my obligation here. _

A larger group than Olberic had anticipated was gathered, a few out-of-shape town guards having joined the children.  He was also sure that one of the brigands he had trounced what seemed like forever ago was making an honest man of himself, and was watching Olberic with wary eyes.  

_ What have I to fear from him? _ Olberic mused.   _ I am stronger now than I have ever been.  Tempered steel is stronger than brittle. _

“Are you prepared, Phillip, Lilli, Markus?” Olberic asked, immediately catching the children’s attention.

“Aye, sir!” came the staggered reply.

“Then let us begin.”

The greatest challenge was simplifying everything down so that even the children who simply wanted to play make-believe warrior would get something out of the exercises.

As Olberic was taking a small break to shift gears between children and adults, someone said, “Let me take care ‘a the guards.”

The former-brigand had approached him, and Olberic looked over, his silence prompting.

“I know how ‘ey work, the outlaws ‘ere,” the brigand continued.  “T’wouldn’t be bad fer these ‘uns to get some...practical practice, eh?”

“What is your name?” Olberic asked.

“Greigor,” the brigand responded.  “Think of this as me repayin’ ye fer settin’ me straight.”

Olberic looked the man over.  Greigor still held himself tightly, most likely out of the years of flight-or-fight, but his face was open and free of guile.  He wasn’t carrying any weapons on him, and from how his eyes darted nervously to a woman a few paces behind him, it didn’t take Cyrus’ intellect to deduce that his offer wasn’t voluntary, but that he  _ would _ follow through.

“Very well,” Olberic said aloud.  “The square is big enough for both groups.  That way, if you need my assistance, I will be nearby.”

They both knew Olberic’s offer for what it was—a threat and a promise.

Greigor nodded, then turned to face the town guards, who had watched the exchange with open curiosity.

“Greigor is also a skilled fighter,” Olberic said, his voice loud enough to carry.  “I expect you to pay as much attention and practice just as hard under his tutelage as mine.”

There was a smattering of uncertain ‘aye’s, but Olberic turned away and left Greigor to it.  Perhaps it was unwise, but if a thief could learn to trust, then perhaps Olberic should move fully past his betrayal as well.

_ I will write Erhardt, _ he resolved before returning to trying to both teach the children and keep them from poking their eyes out with sticks.

It was a good day’s work, and even though he earned no coin, the village watched over him just as he took care of them.  The inn’s cooking was the only thing that kept him from starving.

_ Perhaps I should take up Tressa’s over, but gift the cookbook to Margaret.   _ Olberic thought.   _ However, she might either enjoy the gift or provide me with only porridge for a week because I insulted her cooking. _

The children dispersed, sweaty, dirty, and cheerful; the adults, meanwhile, looked like they had been put through a wringer.

“You will have to pass on my thanks to your lady-love,” Olberic told Greigor.  “It is good for them to be exposed to the kind of fighting style that they will be going up against.  I fought armies, not outlaws, and while my fighting skills are still sharp, they’re not always the most practical.”

Greigor’s mouth fell open, but he caught himself quickly, his posture straightening under the praise.  “Thank ye, sir. Ye drive ‘em ‘ard enough that they at least knew which part a the blade to ‘old.”

Olberic smiled.  “High praise indeed.”

Greigor returned his smile.  “Mayhaps we can switch off days?  Can’t give ‘em all me secrets all at once.”

“That is a sound plan,” Olberic responded.  “Take care, Greigor.”

“An’ you, Sir Olberic.”

With that, Olberic returned to his home, glad that the lock was still secure.  He let himself in, sighed, and propped his sheathed sword against the wall next to his bed.  His eyes fell on his desk and the letters still peeking out of the bag.

_ I could read Cyrus’ latest tome, _ Olberic thought as he walked over to the bag.  A quick look showed that Ophelia, Primrose, and  _ H’aanit _ had written.  He had plenty of material to both read and reply to.

However, there was one letter that needed to be written above all the others.  

Olberic took out his writing supplies but, upon sitting down, realized he had no idea what to say.  The others had at least written him first, so he understood how and what to write to them. With Erhardt, it would be a shot in the dark.

_ Then keep it simple, _ Olberic told himself.

_ Erhardt, _

_ I hope this letter finds you well. _

_ I don’t think I ever thanked you for standing with me against Werner.  I would have you know that, without your skill, I do not believe that I would have been victorious.  Thank you, old friend. _

_ While I doubt that I will ever be able to fully forgive your treason, I believe it is time I stop holding on to the ghost of a fallen country; I have mourned my king and my former life long enough.  Even though I know your soul remains as it always was, I find that I no longer know who you are as a man. I would like to see that ignorance remedied. As neither of us can leave those we protect, I feel that letters might provide a method for us to get to know each other once more. If you find merit in this, please respond. If not, I wish you the best and hope that you always know why you wield your blade. _

_ -Olberic _

Olberic grimaced at the clumsiness of the letter, and idly wished that he was half as eloquent as either Ophelia or Cyrus.  However, his writing skills and manner were what they were. What was written would have to suffice.

He hesitated in picking out an envelope and looked at the message he had scrawled across the parchment.

_ He will not respond--why bother even sending it? _ Olberic thought.  After a candlemark of his mind and insecurities chasing themselves around in circles, he folded and placed the letter in an envelope, sealed it, and addressed it as best as he could.  He set the much smaller missive on top of his reply to Tressa and turned to Ophelia’s letter. Cyrus’ letters were the work of an entire afternoon, more out of the need to plot out the man’s wayward and disjointed manner of storytelling than anything else—Cyrus’ penmanship was impeccable.  

Olberic opened Ophelia’s letter, settled back as comfortably as he could in his wooden chair, and began to work his way through the cleric’s letter


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is what i write when my brain can't handle anymore biochemistry.
> 
> Also, none of this belongs to me.

Elizabeta arrived much sooner than usual in Cobbleston, and with only one letter for Olberic.

“Got some sunburn going to Wellspring, but I’d never been there before, so it was an adventure.  Those Lizardmen are nasty creatures,” she said and handed over a thin envelope.

“I apologize. I didn’t mean to put you in danger,” Olberic said as he turned the envelope over.  

Elizabeta waved his apology away.  “Oh, it’s no problem! I’ve survived worse things than marauding monsters.”

“Nevertheless, take care of yourself,” Olberic said and pressed a few extra leaf than usual into her hands.

“Will do!” she replied. “You have anything for me yet?”

Olberic shook his head.  “I did not expect you back so soon.”

“It’s okay—I figured that would be your response.  Well, you better have everything ready by the time I swing by again!”

With that, she left him alone with the letter.  

There was only one person Olberic knew in Wellspring.

Olberic entered his home, sat on his chair, and regarded the letter.  The handwriting was unmistakable.

Erhardt had responded.

Olberic was caught somewhere between astonishment and anticipation—he wanted to open the letter, but he also wanted nothing to do with it.  

 _Am I really ready for what this response means?_ Olberic wondered.   _Well, I suppose there is only one way to find out._

Olberic opened the envelope and unfolded the parchment contained within.

 

_Olberic,_

 

_It really has been quite some time since we were in each other's company, hasn’t it? You haven’t changed at all, yet I could barely recognize you when we met in the Lizardmen’s den._

_You have always had the courage to do the truly difficult things, things I would never have dared—like write a letter to me. I think I would enjoy getting to know you again, as well._

_As you reached out first, I feel it would be fair of me to start our conversation: Have you learned to cook anything besides blackened meat over the course of the years? You looked well enough when I saw you last, but I imagine that it was because others were feeding you and not because you have miraculously developed culinary skills._

 

_I look forward to your response._

 

_-Erhardt_

 

The line about his ability—or, rather, lack thereof—to cook surprised a laugh out of Olberic. He shook his head, bemused, and set the letter on his desk beside the small novel that was Cyrus’ latest missive, to which he had not yet responded.

 _I will have to buy more parchment and ink soon,_ Olberic thought. _Perhaps Tressa will give me a discount if I buy it from her._

Olberic picked up Cyrus’ letter to respond, but his eyes were drawn constantly back to the single piece of paper he had received from Erhardt.  

 _Now that he responded, what do I speak to him about?  I suppose...life in Cobbleston. I know a bit about how he came to be in Wellspring, of course, but I don’t know the kind of life he lives there.  How can he stand all the damned_ heat _?_ Olberic paused.   _Well, that is at least one question._

Olberic jotted down on another piece of paper questions that came to mind to ask Erhardt as he slowly responded to Cyrus’ tome.

How could Erhardt stand the heat?

What were the townsfolk like?

Did he have anyone kin to Olberic’s Phillip?  Or, rather, did he have a fan club of sorts?

What did he do besides defend the town from Lizardmen?  

Had he finally figured out how to thread a needle?

Were there seasons in the desert?

By the time he had finished Cyrus’ letter, he had filled an entire parchment with mostly non-invasive questions.  There was one, which he knew he wouldn’t include, that bothered at him more than he thought it should.

“Have you found anyone?” Olberic murmured aloud as he crossed out the question.  “It’s not my business, even if I truly do wish to know. It didn’t appear as if he had found anyone when I saw him in Wellspring…”

An old, deep hurt ached within Olberic, but he shoved the pain down to where it usually slept, ignoring it with a determination built from years of denial.

Olberic set aside the parchment pieces to dry, and picked up Primrose’s letter.

He still found himself jotting down questions to ask Erhardt, even though he knew the majority wouldn't make it into the response.

Olberic set Primrose’s letter aside after signing it, folded and tied Cyrus’, and then looked between his candle, H’aanit’s letter, and Erhardt's letter.

 _It can wait,_ Olberic decided. _I need some air._

Olberic strapped on his sword and left his home behind.

Spring was in full swing in the Highlands, and while that didn’t mean the same thing as elsewhere in the realm, it did bring its own activities. Lambs and young goats were being born, and what food could be grown was being sown; one of the young girls in the village had shown him the seedling of a flowering plant she had nursed into life, bursting with pride.

“I want the whole world to be covered in pretty flowers!” she had proclaimed. Olberic was less inclined towards that goal, as spring always had him searching out an apothecary to give him a medicine that would help him _breathe_ through the flowering seasons.

“An admirable goal,” he had told her instead, and the grin she gave him made the white lie worthwhile.

With all he villagers being otherwise occupied, Olberic was left to his own devices.

 _Well, someone needs to watch the town while everyone else is busy,_ Olberic decided.

The beasts in the surrounding hills had been more vicious than usual, but that was likely a result of them coming out of hibernating for the winter. Brigands were more active during the spring, too, since that was when most villages were distracted, and therefore vulnerable. High summer would come soon enough, and then people would avoid what unnecessary activity that they could. So, spring was bandit season.

 _I wonder if there is a particular time of year that the Lizardmen are more active,_ Olberic mused as he walked to his favorite vantage point for watching the village. _It certainly didn't seem that way from how the town guard spoke of the raids._

As he stood guard, Olberic had to stalwartly fight off sleepiness; for all that Olberic enjoyed it, peace was sometimes incredibly dull.

 _Guard duty was never the most appealing post either,_ he thought with a wry smile. _Erhardt was awful when we were on guard duty together. Between his jokes and my heavy-handed flirting, it’s amazing that no one snuck by us._

The afternoon passed uneventfully, and Olberic’s mind drifted on the wind. Bittersweet memories from his time as a knight of Hornburg and days with Erhardt at his side intertwined in the spaces between the clouds, nostalgia sinking deep into him.

 _What would I be like, if Hornburg was still be around? What would my life be?_ Olberic shook his head. _I suppose it doesn’t matter. Things are what they are, and wishful thinking won’t change the past._

Towards sunset, Olberc’s gaze was caught by a procession of villagers coming up the main road. Olberic waved as a local family, sans their eldest son, tracked in from tending their flocks.

“Is Kristoff on the night watch?” Olberic asked as he fell into step beside them. More people in the village meant more eyes out for danger, so he felt it safe to leave his post; Olberic’s stomach was also protesting having skipped lunch,.

“Aye,” Mikael, the boy's father, responded. “Tis time he be takin' on more responsibility.”

“That is good,” Olberic said.

“‘’is lessons wit you ain't hurt either.”

“I'm glad my skills can be useful,” Olberic demurred. “How was the day?”

Olberic had about as much interest in shepherding as in learning how to steal, but was adept at feigning enough interest to keep another talking so he did not have to.

The group parted ways once they entered the town square; Olberic turned towards the tavern while the family went to their home.

The tavern was already lively when he arrived, and he was hailed heartily as he walked to his usual table, the worn floorboards creaking under his steps.

“Elizabeta passed through today.  How’s that Cyrus doing?” Carwyn, the tavern owner's daughter, asked. She seemed to have taken a shine to the scholar, due to the man’s letters. Olberic used the scholar’s letters as reading and writing practice for the villagers, and it appeared that Cyrus’ flowery prose charmed women even when not in his presence.

“Have you heard from him recently?” she pressed.

“The last letter from him is a week or so old now. I have a reply for him the next time Elizabeta comes by.”

“Oh, that's too bad,” Carwyn said. “I don’t think you've read us that one, though.”

“Then I will bring it tomorrow night.”

“You better,” the tavernkeep, Margaret, drawled. “She’s been naggin’ me non-stop about askin’ you.”

“ _Mom!”_ Carwyn exclaimed, horrified.

Olberic chuckled. _If I wasn’t already finished my reply, I would add that. Perhaps in the next letter._

“Twas weird to have the courier come from the Sunlands, though, although I'm glad for the spices,” Margaret said. “Did she go there because you have found someone new to write to?”

“After a fashion,” Olberic replied. “I have discovered than an old friend lives there and felt it worthwhile to get in touch.”

“Oh, how wonderful!” Margaret exclaimed.

“Is it a girl?” Peter, one of the older boys, asked.

“How rude!” Carwyn scolded.

“No,” Olberic responded, amused. “A brother-in-arms from my days in the military.”

“Aw, damn,” one of the village men muttered as a few leaf exchanged hands between him and his wife.

Olberic hid his smile in a mug of ale. For all that he was a fixture in the town, his life and ‘mysterious’ past were still the basis of innumerable bets.

“How is this year looking?” Olberic asked one of the village elders, Albert.

The man scratched his sparsely-bearded chin pensively. “Depends on who ye askin’, methinks.”

“Oh?”

“Twas a wet, warm winter. Soft soil, good for planting, but also good fer breedin’ vermin.”

Olberic nodded. “Animals or men?”

“Both, probably,” Kristie, the lone waitstaff, commented. “Moldy bread makes moldy hearts, I say.”

Olberic frowned. “I will make sure to stay alert.”

“If you keep on trainin' our men and boys, one day they’ll be skilled enough to replace ye,” Margaret said. “Then we'll have to make a husband out of ye just to give ye somethin’ to do.”

Olberic wasn’t sure whether or not she was serious.

“Both they and I could always be more skilled,” Olberic said instead. “What is on the menu tonight? I heard you mention something about new spices?”

 

~~~

 

_Erhardt,_

 

_I am still avoiding malnourishment by recruiting other people to cook for me. I'd rather not desecrate good food with my paltry abilities. A friend of mine offered to send me a cookbook; I turned her offer down, however. Such a precious resource would be wasted on me. Have your own skills expanded over the past eight years?_

 

_The messenger who brought me your letter mentioned running into Lizardfolk. Are they a year-long nuisance? While we have our share of monsters of both animal and human kinds in the Highlands, they are only active at certain times of the year. I am sure that, with your skills, the Lizardmen have never proved a problem, but it must grow tiresome to have to worry about them constantly. Do others help you in controlling them? I know that there is a town guard, but when we met again, you had gone off on your own to clear the den._

 

 _To occupy my time, I have been training the townsfolk to protect Cobbleston. It empowers them, being able to fight for themselves. Recently, a reformed bandit has begun to assist me, and he has proven to be a valuable and skilled ally. I have tried to convince him to spar with me to no avail. He is terrified of me, which is why he'll never agree. He was one of the brigands I defeated when rescuing my squire—which, incidentally, is where and when I discovered that you still lived. I can't tell you whether I was relieved or angry to discover you were alive. But, I am glad I learned that, as it rekindled_ my _life. You have always had far more influence over me than you ever had the right to._

 

_I suppose another question is due to continue our conversation: how the hell do you deal with the desert heat? I felt it oppressive for the short time I was there; I cannot imagine living in it year-round._

 

_I look forward to your response._

 

_-Olberic_

 

Olberic set aside the letter to dry, and barely defeated an intense urge to throw it away. What was the point of conversing with Erhardt?

 _Perhaps I am lonely,_ Olberic thought and checked that his other letters were well-packaged. _Erhardt remembers Hornburg. He and I grew together into young men and accomplished soldiers. We are both legends, and sometimes it takes another legend to forget that one's name is known the realm over._

Olberic stood and stretched. His joints ached due to the rain, but rain didn’t stop monsters or humans from attacking. He secured his raincloak over his clothing and stepped out into the fine mist.

He closed the door and a soft, heavy silence enveloped his heart. The life he had in Cobbleston, while pleasant, was gradually becoming suffocating. After traveling again, after seeing the _good_ he could do when he pushed himself outside of what was comfortable…he was no longer the same man. Cobbleston was smothering in its predictability. That it was predictable was _good_ —predictable meant safe—but safety never forced one to examine and overcome one's shortcomings.

Olberic shook his head slowly, the fine mist condensing on his raincloak. _It doesn't matter. My life, my blade, is meant to protect others, and I will protect this town and its inhabitants to the best of my abilities until they are able to protect themselves._

‘And then what?’ a small voice inside him challenged.

 _And then what?_ Olberic repeated. _That is a very good question that I have no answer to as of yet._

The stones and cliffs were slippery in the dampness, but the low, grey clouds made the green grass and scrub almost glow with life.

 _I do not have to do grand things to make an impact_ , Olberic thought. _If I can make the lives of these people better, then that will be enough._

Olberic had told himself enough lies that he knew it was one even as the thought crossed his mind.

 _Maybe I'll escort Elizabeta when she returns,_ he mused. _If things truly are becoming that dangerous, an extra blade on her journey wouldn’t be a bad thing. Maybe I could even visit my friends in person._

The ground was uncertain enough in the thin sheen of rain that the person who was trying to sneak up on Olberic misjudged their footing. The sounds of a pebble dropping down the mountainside made Olberic turn, his hand already grasping the hilt of his sword.

While Olberic didn’t _see_ them, he heard a soft curse and swiftly retreating movement in the low brush.

 _Perhaps I should search these hills more thoroughly on a brighter day,_ Olberic thought. _Twould be better to scatter any dens of bandits before they have a chance to settle._

Olberic found the two townspeople on guard duty and told them, “Be more wary than usual. There may be some trouble brewing in the hills.”

“Aye, sir,” was the answer he received in ragged unison. Olberic nodded and walked out of town and onto one of the pathways to where the town’s young men watched over a joint flock of sheep. His small encounter made him wary, and Olberic wanted to see if the occurrence was indicative of a larger problem.

Both shepherds were missing when Olberic arrived at the closest field.

Olberic frowned sharply and waded into the midst of the sheep.  His footing wasn’t as sure as he would have liked from a combination of manure and rain, but he walked as quickly as possible.  The sheep trailed along behind him, clumping around him and making forward progress difficult.  

Rocks and rain left little evidence, but the badly wounded shepherding dog gave him at least a clue regarding what happened to the shepherds.  The dog whined pitifully as Olberic walked over to it. He let the dog sniff his hand before he gently stroked its head and ears.

 _These are blade injuries,_ Olberic thought as he examined the dog’s body.   _So we are most likely dealing with humans.  Very well._

“Can you point me in the direction of where your masters went?” Olberic asked the dog.  

The dog wagged its tail twice and strained in the direction of the northwest, trying to get on its feet.  However, the attempt at standing was its undoing, as the movement pushed the organs that had been held inside by threads of flesh outside, making it collapse in pain.

“Shh,” Olberic said. “You did your duty well.” Olberic stroked its head and ears until he knew it was gone.

He stood, the sheep having backed away from the scent of blood and gore.  

 _No more time to waste,_ Olberic thought and headed off in the direction the dog had faced.   _Hopefully the boys will be well.  They should know at least a little of how to fight, although that may have landed them in more trouble than it prevented._

The boys clearly had struggled, as broken branches and dug up ground, along with a few pieces of torn cloth, guided Olberic along.  He was not a hunter like H’aanit, but he had paid enough attention to her clumsy attempts at teaching Ophilia to gain some skill at tracking.  Those who had abducted the boys were also either very new at banditry or were being deliberately obvious. Olberic didn’t like either option.

The trail led him to a familiar cave—the cave where he had rescued Phillip.  The place where his journey had started anew.

It felt like a deliberate choice, but who would have known its importance save for the bandits he had fought that day?  

 _Did Greigor put them up to this?_ Olberic wondered.   _I will have to talk with him upon my return._

Olberic looked at the yawning cave-mouth, then stepped inside.  He didn’t have anything to light, and everything around the cave would have been wet anyway, so he was relying more on sound than sight, which, while uncomfortable, was an interesting challenge.

He kept his steps as silent as possible in spite of his boots being saturated with water from rain and grass.  He heard laughter, and slowed his steps even further. The mail armor he did wear was underneath layers of cloth; however, Therion had pointedly told him that soldiers were his favorite targets, as their armor made so much noise he didn’t even have to try to be quiet to steal from them.  So, even though Olberic’s progress was painfully slow, it was better to have the element of surprise than have the brigands prepared for his appearance.

They, however, weren’t trying to be quiet, which only deepened Olberic’s suspicion. _The are probably prepared for a larger rescue force than just myself._ _Well, they’ll find I’m more than a challenge even on my own,_ he thought and approached the better-lighted area.

The incline he had been creeping up leveled out into a vaguely-familiar plateau, where a group of five men were lounging, shooting the breeze.  Olberic couldn’t see the boys anywhere, however.

 _Well, I’m sure that I can get them to reveal the boys’ location easily enough,_ Olberic thought.   _Five against one aren’t the best odds, but I have stared down much worse and more skilled opponents._

For the briefest of moments, Olberic was in a different cave, the smell of heat and sand around him as he stared down a man he had thought dead, unsure if he wanted to kiss him or kill him.

Olberic shook off the memory. _Not now. I have more pressing matters to attend to._

When it became obvious that the bandits weren’t going to talk about anything remotely useful, Olberic dashed out of hiding and immediately into melee, surprising the group.

Well-timed strikes put two of the five bandits immediately out of the fight, one’s head rolling across the ground while the second’s viscera burst out of a tear Olberic left in his abdomen. The other three had time to get their feet under them.  One was an archer, while the other two charged Olberic, swords drawn.

Olberic was by far the better swordsman, and the two bandits who made the mistake of engaging him directly were shortly dispatched, one staggering back and out of the battle from having an arm removed; Olberic cut the other off at the knees, then ran him through. Only the archer remained. As Olberic turned to face his final assailant, an arrow pinged off his shoulder guard, uncomfortably close to his neck.  Olberic charged the man’s position, but the archer bolted, clearly smart enough to not allow Olberic to get close enough to fight. Olberic didn’t have the speed the archer did, so by the time Olberic had reached the cave mouth, the archer was already some way away and moving nimbly over the treacherous, slippery terrain as if it were no concern at all.  

 _There is no way I’ll catch up to him in this terrain and weather, let alone find him,_ Olberic decided as he watched the man’s figure grow smaller and then vanish behind a bend. Olberic sighed and returned to the small camp. The bandit problem may have been temporarily solved, but he still had to find the abducted young men.

The bandit whose arm he had removed was still alive, although just barely; Olberic’s time in the field, both as a knight of Hornburg and a wandering sword, had taught him that a fallen opponent didn’t return to attempt to kill you. While this did make information gathering infinitely more difficult, it also meant that he didn’t need to be constantly looking over his shoulder.  Olberic walked over and nudged the still-living brigand over so he lying on his back.

“You abducted two young shepherds,” Olberic said, his voice cold and firm.

“So?”

“Tell me why.”

“Wh-why should I tell you?” the brigand said around the blood in his mouth.  

“Because your answer determines how merciful I am feeling.”

“Gonna die anyway.”

“Then you have nothing to lose by telling me.  The others are dead and your leader has fled.”

The brigand looked away, more a grimace than a smile on his face; he kept his silence as the light faded from his eyes.  Olberic walked in the direction that the bandit was looking, as men’s bodies often betrayed them if their words did not.

Olberic had to overturn a few decaying crates before he found the boys, bound and badly injured.

“Damn,” he whispered.  

He didn’t have the same skill that Alfyn did, but he had made the apothecary drill him until he could make basic poultices and tonics.  The only one he had truly mastered was the one that stopped bleeding. Olberic already knew how to bandage and splint, but it was still the work of a half hour.  

 _How to get them out of here?_ Olberic wondered.   _There are two of them and one of me, and I don’t trust the other to not die of the cold and his wounds for however long I am gone._

Olberic took stock of what was around him: crates, ropes, a couple weapons, some foodstuffs, and a couple bundles of what he assumed were either clothing or stolen goods, but little else.

_Perhaps a sled?  It will not do well on rocky ground, nor in the rain, but it will at least be something to support one of them.  I will carry the other._

The sled Olberic put together was a crude tool, and not one that he would be proud of later, but it would suffice as temporary transport. He put as much padding on it as possible, then moved the less injured shepherd onto it.

The shift made the young man stir.  His eyes were unfocused when he looked at Olberic but there seemed to be some recognition.

“Berg?” he whispered, his voice barely more than a croak.

“Rest,” Olberic commanded.  “I’ll get you home.”

“Be…careful,” the shepherd gasped out.

“Of course,” Olberic said.  “I’m going to tie you to the sled so you don’t fall off.”

“Okay…”

Olberic secured him probably more tightly than comfortable, but such ensured that the young man wasn’t going to go anywhere.  Olberic wrapped the sled’s rope around his left forearm and checked the position of his sword. He could fight better with his right hand, although he doubted he’d be successful at fighting so encumbered.  

 _I wish Alfyn or H’aanit were here,_ Olberic thought as he maneuvered the more injured young man into a carry.   _Linde would also be wonderful.  Even just another pair of hands would be welcome._

Unbidden, the memory of he and Erhardt helping each other, helping their fallen and wounded comrades, floated into his mind.  

 _Now is neither the time nor the place for reminiscence,_ Olberic scolded himself.   _Gods only know how much longer these two young men have._

It was even slower going on the way back to Cobbleston, as the fine mist of the morning had turned into a steady, soaking rain.  

Thankfully, one of the town guard caught sight of Olberic and immediately rushed out to help him.

“What happened?” the man asked, his hands held out to help, but clearly not knowing what to _do_.

“They were attacked,” Olberic responded succinctly.  “Can you make sure that there is someplace safe for these two to recover?  Their wounds are grievous.”

“Got it,” the man said and immediately dashed off.

Olberic sighed imperceptibly.  

 _I should have asked for his help carrying one of these two instead,_ Olberic grumbled.

The appearance of a town guard frantically running through the streets caught people’s attention, however, and soon Olberic found himself surrounded by too many people wishing to help.  Eventually, they made it to the older shepherd’s home and Olberic was able to hand the injured young men off to people with more healing ability than he. Unfortunately, he was now faced with the numerous and justified questions from the townsfolk:

“What happened?”

“I’m not sure.”

“Where did you find them?”

“In a cave to the north-north-west of here.”

“When did you find them?”

“About two hours ago.”

“Do you know who did this to them?”

“Bandits, but I have no specifics.”

“Why would they hurt my boy!?”

“I’m not sure.”

“What are you going to do?”

“Tomorrow I will return to the lair with two members of the town guard, and we will put together what exactly happened and bring the remaining brigand to justice.”

“How many bandits remain?”

“Only one.  I killed all the others.”

That statement short-circuited the frenetic questioning.  

“Oh,” said one of the older women.  “Well, then. Thank you for getting rid of the menace and for bringing the boys home.   _Right_?”

The silence that followed was uncomfortable before one boy’s mother said: “I am more grateful that he brought Timm back than staying and investigating.  Thank you, Sir Olberic. Without you, he might be…he might not have the chance he does now.”

“I only did what was right,” Olberic said.  “Can I do anything else for you or your family, Sheila?”

Sheila shook her head.  “Now Timm’s life is in the hands of the gods.”

“Very well.  Please let me know if I can help you in any way.”

Sheila’s smile was weak and watery, but genuine.  “I will.”

Olberic was then allowed to escape from the crowd that had gathered and back into the rain.

He quickly made his way to his home, but came to an abrupt stop on its threshold, his hand poised over the door-handle.

 _There is no reason to hurt two shepherds,_ Olberic thought, frowning at the muddy water that swirled around his feet.   _Then, why?  What was this meant to accomplish?  They are no one, and are worth nothing outside their ability to keep their family’s sheep in line. Was it meant to be a trap, and, if so, for whom?_  Olberic sighed again and opened his door.   _Why do I have a bad feeling that the trap was for me, and that I fell right into it?_


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, i am updating more often than i thought i would. i suppose writing on the subway to decompress would generate content faster than expected.
> 
> Also, nothing Octopath-related belongs to me.

_Olberic,_

_You have a squire?  You must tell me how that occurred._

_As for my cooking skills, they are much as they ever were.  I have not had to cook for another besides myself for quite a few years now. I have had to be inventive, due to the local ingredients being so different from what I grew up with an was used to, but spending some time in the tavern and charming a few people taught me methods of incorporating the unorthodox and unfamiliar into dishes that I was already competent at making.   I admit that it is a bit dull cooking for one, but what guests I have over are never here for my culinary skills. I will confess to sometimes simply_ forgetting _to cook out of ennui._

_The Lizardmen are, unfortunately, a year-round problem.  We may set their numbers back significantly in one battle or another, but have yet been unable to find a way to stop them entirely.  We haven’t successfully located all their nests, which means that we can’t drive them away for good. I’m sure a new problem would rise to take their place if we ever managed that, anyway, and it would probably be worse.  Nevertheless, the constant struggle does keep me occupied. However, they are, apparently, smart enough to recognize me by now, so have lately taken to retreating whenever I appear. While I am glad that my mere presence keeps the village safe now, it does make my days significantly less exciting._

_Why am I not surprised that you are training an entire village?  You never do things by halves. It must be what keeps you the busiest; even the most disciplined soldier is not always easy to tutor—teaching back-country yokels must be extremely frustrating.  Then again, you were always the more patient between us._

_A bandit has every right to be terrified of you—you are a terrifying presence in a fight.  I don’t think you’re going to find any sparring partners outside of highly trained warriors, as all others would fall to easily. How are you keeping up your skills, by the way?  I know that the Unbending Blade managed to not rust, but I’m not sure how. Care to share your secret? The guards do not put up the fight they should against me, and the Lizardmen are little better than animals. Perhaps we can spar again, whenever we see each other next?_

_I wasn’t sure what to think, either, when I saw you for the first time in eight years.  Was I glad to see you alive? Or resigned, knowing what you most likely came to do? It had never crossed my mind to even look into whether or not you survived the fall of Hornburg, you know; I simply assumed that you had succumbed to your wounds. My actions and their results were easier to live with when I believed you to be dead. I’m sure you were doing your best to put me out of your mind all together. I do not know what I would have done if I knew you were alive for these past years. I am almost certain that I would not have sought you out; I am too much a coward._

_As for the heat, the best answer is ‘endure it.’  There is no defeating the heat, one simply lives with it.  The nights are much colder than the days, so it is a study in contrasts. You, however, seem to have stuck to a fairly familiar clime in the Highlands._

_When I saw you last, you were in the company of seven others.  Who were they? You seemed like a large, extremely dysfunctional, but affectionate family._

_I hope to hear from you soon,_

_Erhardt_

 

Olberic read the final lines with incredulity.  

_Is Erhardt_ jealous? Olberic wondered.   _It does seem like he has subordinates more than friends…_

Olberic read through the short letter three more times, but each time he tried to unravel what it was—and was not—actually saying, he came up short.  Not for lack of trying, but, perhaps, an unconscious unwillingness. He set the letter aside and sighed.  It was just another puzzle on top of the one that had been recently dumped in his lap.

_The Highlands have many places to hide_ , he thought and rubbed his temples.   _I have scoured as much of it as is within a day’s travel of Cobbleston, and while I have found shreds of evidence of bandits and flushed out a few less-skilled groups, I have seen neither hide nor hair of the archer who escaped me.  What I wouldn’t do for H’aanit and her tracking abilities. Or, at least, the opportunity to range a bit farther afield._

Olberic leaned back in his chair and stared pensively at his sword.   _Greigor has sworn that he had nothing to do with the attack, and even showed me a few hiding spots I would have never thought to look.  I sincerely believe that he is concerned for the two young men, and angry that they were hurt._  

Olberic picked up Erhardt’s letter and read it through one more time, as if within its lines was the secret to finding his elusive assailant.  

_What would he think?  What would Primrose say?  Alfyn?_ Olberic thought and put the letter down again.  He closed his eyes and took a number of deep breaths.   _Think, Olberic._

“ _You don’t have to do this alone.”_

Olberic opened his eyes as Tressa’s reprimand whispered through him.  She had said it when he had tried to dissuade them from following him to Riverford.  Werner and the fall of Hornburg were not truly related to them in any way, so there was no need for them to join him for the final confrontation.  Tressa had very vehemently thought otherwise, and with the backup of Ophilia and Cyrus, he had little chance at winning any argument he could have come up with.

_She was actually quite angry at me,_ Olberic thought, bemused.   _Gods know she can have a temper._

“Very well,” Olberic murmured aloud and stood.  “Let’s ask around town. Maybe someone sees what I am missing.”

Olberic looked at Erhardt’s letter resting on his bed and shook his head.   _It will take too long to explain my companions right now.  I have been distracted long enough_.

Olberic left his home, glad that the day was dry, even if the clouds hung low.  His first stop was the tavern—Therion had been right about that being the best place to glean information. Even though Olberic knew that any townsperson would answer his questions, it was sometimes hard to pin them down; however, there were always a few at the tavern.

Olberic walked in to see that the tavern was far from empty, even without it being a meal time; two older men were arguing over sheep breeding and poaching, while three others looked on, amused.  

“Sir Olberic,” Carwyn greeted him.  “How are you doing?”

“Well, thank you,” Olberic replied.  He hesitated and swallowed his pride before saying, “Although I admit to being at a loss as to where I may find the bandit who hurt Timm and Mikhael so.”

Carwyn looked sad and sympathetic.  “It is hard to find one man among these hills.”

“But I must,” Olberic insisted.  “If only to bring him to justice.”

“Justice?  Bah, you’re chasing revenge now,” Margaret said from where she was cooking something.  “Dannae worry about revenge or justice. The gods’ justice will find him soon enough.”

“The gods do not work on the same time-line as humans.  Being brought to justice now by humans will be more productive than waiting for divine punishment that may never arrive.”

“Men,” Margaret sighed, both affectionate and exasperated.  “What if he is long, long gone?   What’s the use in chasin’ a shadow?  You’ll be spinnin’ your wheels in the mud, only makin’ yourself tired and dirty.”

Olberic could grudgingly see wisdom in Margaret’s words.   _But, then, what do I_ do? _What use am I here aside from training the villagers?  I want to protect them, but I cannot suffocate them…_

“Sir Olberic,” Carwyn said, catching his attention.  “You’ve been...different, since you returned from your journey.  I think you’ve outgrown this town. And that’s okay!” she added quickly.  “I think...I think we always knew that you weren’t meant to stay here forever.”

Olberic couldn’t entirely conceal his surprise.  “I…” he began, but really had nothing to say.

“I think we’d all like you to stick around longer,” Carwyn continued.  “It feels safer with you here. But, while you were away, we grew stronger as well.  We’re not helpless anymore, thanks to you. If you’re ready to move on, we’re ready to let you go.”

“You are sure?” Olberic said slowly.

“Absolutely.  So, as soon as you find a reason to be off, you can go,” Margaret chimed in.  “Although you’ll have to let us throw ye a good-bye party firs’.”

Olberic couldn’t stop the small smile that slowly spread across his face.  “Very well. Thank you.”

Margaret waved her hand dismissively.  “’tis us who should thank _ye_.  Now, figure out where you want your travels to take ye.  We wouldn’t mind you staying on patrol until you do, though.”

Olberic’s smile turned wry and he nodded.  “Understood. Thank you for your insight.”

“I noticed that a messenger came from Wellspring again with a letter for you,” Carwyn commented.

Olberic nodded.  “I am glad that the person I wrote to has decided to keep up our correspondence. I want sure he would.”

“Why not?” Carwyn asked.

“Our history is…storied,” Olberic replied. “I wasn’t sure if he would be able to overlook some parts of our past to find it in himself to respond.”

“I thought you said he was a friend.”

“Was. We had a...falling out. I am glad that he is amenable to reconciling our past.”

“Well, ‘tis good that you are resolving matters between ye,” Margaret said.

“I am going to try to write him as often as I can,” Olberic said. “So, you will likely see many couriers arriving from Wellspring with a letter from him in the coming weeks.”

“You are truly determined to repair things with him, aren't you?”

“I miss his friendship,” Olberic responded.

Margaret’s smile was soft. “Then I hope ye manage to repair whatever you need to so to count him as a true friend again.”

“As do I,” Olberic agreed.  “Is there anything that I can help you with now?  Otherwise, I may indeed patrol, since most of the men are busy this time of year. I, however, have been expressly forbidden from husbandry or agriculture, so I have the time necessary to guard.”

“The best thing ye can do now is find a reason to leave,” Margaret said.  “But, until then, be my taste-tester. Wellspring and the Sunlands have some fascinating spices and herbs, but I’m not sure how to use them yet.  Since everyone else is too chicken, that leaves ye to help.”

Olberic nodded slowly.  “I have greater fortitude than most, and I have yet to taste something you made that I dislike.”

Margaret laughed.  “At least I don’t have to ask you to be honest.  Your face gives away your emotions.”

_Am I really that transparent?_ Olberic wondered.  “I am not good at lying.”

“No, ye aren’t,” Margaret agreed.  “Now, stay where ye are. Carwyn, get him some ale.  Some of this seems rather spicy.”

Carwyn set a tankard down in front of Olberic, a mischievous grin forming on her face.

_I hope I survive this,_ Olberic thought, an impending sense of doom falling over him.

\--

A day later, Olberic’s mouth and stomach were still recovering from Margaret’s ‘experiments’ when he sat down to respond to Erhardt’s letter.

 

_Erhardt,_

_I am sorry to hear that the Lizardmen are a continual problem, but you are likely correct; removing one problem will only engender another. What is the phrase? ‘Nature abhors a vacuum.’_

_Phillip decided he was my squire more than I searching for one.  He is enthusiastic, but still too young to do anything truly important.  I feel that his desire to be a warrior and swordsman will fade with time.  I am, currently, the most interesting thing in town and as close to a father-figure as he possesses.  It is no surprise that he would try to imitate my every move. I have discovered that children are very much kin to ducklings—once I gained the attention of Philip, more began to follow me around. It is both endearing and strange._

_I train them because it is only right and just that they know how to protect themselves. Back-country yokels they may be, but they pay better attention and work harder to perfect what I teach them than many professional warriors I have encountered. If anything, I am growing more frustrated at how my ability to teach does not match their capability and drive to learn!_

_I do not have much of a secret to keeping up my skills.  I drill myself and perform strength and agility exercises I picked up, both during my stint as a mercenary and my more recent travels.  I will never have as deft hands as Therion, but learning how to keep a thief from randomly pick-pocketing me out of boredom was a worthwhile challenge. I’m proud to say that by the time we parted ways I was able to catch him every time.  Assisting H’aanit in her hunts and taming the beasts she used as both companions and soldiers likely helped as well. It was certainly worthwhile to practice and learn from those whose fighting styles are vastly different than my own. I believe that, more than anything else, has made me a stronger warrior. I suppose the divine favor that I gained also assisted me in that regard, too. I assume you know of the goddess Winnehild? If you are offering to spar with me, then I accept. I look forward to our next duel._

_I suppose my companions and I did all end up being a family.  I traveled with and assisted them all in a number of varied and personal goals, so we grew close over time, if just through extended exposure.  My companions were H’aanit, Therion, Ophilia, Cyrus, Alfyn, Tressa, and Primrose. Among them were a thief, a cleric, a merchant, a scholar, a dancer, a hunter, and an apothecary.  I wonder if you can guess who had what skill set. I will provide you with some information on the ones you guess correctly._

_Do you have any friends?  It seemed like you had more subordinates than anyone you could consider close.  Being well-respected is good, but I discovered that such isn’t entirely fulfilling. I am well-respected amongst the villagers; they trust me, and appreciate my guidance and guardianship. However, before I went on my travels and met my companions, I felt hollow. To what end did I wield my blade? I found no answer in the good will and high regard of the villagers of Cobbleston.  It was startling, then, how another extending a hand in genuine friendship and camaraderie changed everything. I am forever grateful to Tressa and Cyrus. Her forward nature and his utter lack of guile, along with the information that you yet lived, pulled me out of Cobbleston and my insecurities and back into the wider world and_ life _._

_I hope that you consider this letter a similar offer to theirs, Erhardt. I have missed your companionship, although, from a comment you made in your last letter, it seems as if you are not lacking for companions. Nevertheless, I also recommend finding someone with whom to cultivate a friendship. Keep your mind and eyes open--I would have never thought I’d end up traveling with a scholar and a cleric of the Sacred Flame, of all people!_

_Actually, do you remember Sergeant Haschel? I don’t think I ever met a more severe taskmaster in my life. My calluses had calluses by the time we were done training under him. I wonder what happened to the man. I hope he is still around, training fools into capable warriors. I'd hate to think that we are the last generation he terrorized. We had our first duel under his tutelage, did we not? I believe I won. You were so angry! I apologize if I was smug, but you were the first opponent that I thought was worthy of my skill, so defeating you was quite the accomplishment to me._

 

Olberic’s quill hesitated as an idea slowly coalesced in his mind. He turned the quill slowly between his fingers as he pondered the concept.  _I didn’t think he would respond to my letter,_ Olberic thought. _Might as well see how he takes to this latest insane idea._ He dipped his quill in a little more ink and continued writing.

 

_Perhaps, if you have the opportunity or inclination, one of us could visit the other?  I think it would be behoove me to see outside of Cobbleston once more, and you may do well with a holiday from Wellspring.  There is so much more to this world than I ever thought._

_I look forward to hearing your thoughts._

_Olberic_

 

It wasn’t right to want to spend time with Erhardt so soon after their minor reconciliation. He still knew so little of the man, and while Olberic doubted Erhardt would try to kill him, he didn’t want to take unnecessary risks.

_Yet, traveling with him would give me more insight than anything else.  Letters can be carefully composed. People are unable to control their words quite as well in person. If a thief can learn to trust again, I can take a chance on a man whom I loved dearly. It is impossible that_ everything _between us was a lie._

Olberic sealed the letter and set it aside.  He looked at it for a long while, the piece of parchment lying innocently on his bed.  

_What would it be like, to travel with Erhardt_ alone _?_ Olberic wondered.   _Whenever we traveled together before, it had always been with an army or a group, never just he and I._

The prospect was strangely thrilling.  

_Assuming he agrees to travel with me,_ Olberic thought.   _Well, what will come will come.  I should train the townsfolk as much as I can before I receive Erhardt’s reply._

He stood and strapped his sword to his belt, but his movement was slow and absent-minded.   _Why am I assuming that he will agree?  There is no reason for him to want to travel with me.  Even if he says no, though, I should visit at least one of my friends in person_ , Olberic thought.   _It has been too long._   _Perhaps Tressa; Rippletide isn’t that far from here, and I’m sure her parents would be glad to know that I was one of her protectors on her journey.  I think I would also be interested in meeting this Leon fellow. Tressa speaks quite highly of him, but a person in love can be blind to the less favorable traits of their object of affection._

Olberic grimaced at that thought, grabbed the letter to Erhardt, stuffed it into his surcoat, and left his home.

_Is this my new journey?_ Olberic absent wondered as he relieved one of the town guards, a hand absently finding its way to the letter.   _And what would the purpose be…?_   _  
_


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> What do I do when I hit a block with another story? Go back to writing one I neglected but still vaguely remember the plot for.
> 
> As always, nothing Octopath Traveler belongs to me.

_ Olberic, _

_ Now all I can see is you walking around your town with a trail of children behind you, tugging on your surcoat and quaking.  What exactly do they want from you? Don’t tell me that you’re training children? I suppose knowing how to at least recognize a sword and how to defend onesself would be useful, regardless of age.  Still, the powerful Unbending Blade a mother duck! How much your life has changed. _

_ I can already tell you what H’aanit and Therion are, since you indicated them earlier in your letter--H’aanit is the huntress and Therion is the thief.  As for the others, I would guess that Ophilia or Cyrus would be the scholar. Perhaps Primrose was the cleric, as the name seems to lend itself to that profession.  Alfyn was either the apothecary or merchant. Tressa, however, I’m uncertain. I guess she would be the dancer, but that name doesn’t sound very dancer-like; it is not theatrical enough.  I don’t clearly remember their appearances, as I was much more focused on yours. Was I correct on any of those counts? I may have gotten one or two out of luck alone, but I’d be interested to know how well I guessed.  I look forward to hearing about your friends. _

_ The thought of you traveling with a  _ scholar _ in particular sounds like a study in contrasts!  When was the last time you picked up a book, Olberic?  I would think you almost allergic to them anymore. _

_ As for myself, I would not say I have many friends, if any at all.  I think my strength impresses and scares people away from considering befriending me.  I appreciate these letters more than I thought I would. I didn’t expect you to respond to mine, actually;  I figured that you had decided to send me a letter when you were drunk and nostalgic, and that you regretted it immediately after it had been sent.  I am glad to see that you do not. It is nice to have someone to speak to who does not hold me in awe.      
_

_ As for visiting one another,   
_

The ink was different between “another” and the words that followed.

_ I cannot see there being any issue.  You seem to have less flexibility than I do.  Right now the Lizardmen are particularly active, but, come summer, it becomes simply too hot for the cold-blooded beasts to step outside without cooking.  In truth, I might actually welcome the respite of the Highlands. What is summer like there? I wouldn’t think it wouldn't be too different from Hornburg. Summer here is just longer days and drier, higher heat.  People avoid being outside during the day most of the year--in summer, any reason to go outside is reconsidered until the errand becomes unimportant enough to wait until sundown. _

_ Well, I suppose that means it as good a time as any to leave Wellspring.  I will visit you this coming summer. This does not mean that these letters should stop.  I still don’t know you as well as I should. I doubt that you would shove a blade through my back, but a certain degree of certainty would be welcome.  You could also consider this a challenge to your storytelling skills. I’m curious about your friends; you can judge a man by the company he keeps. _

_ And, gods, do I remember Sergeant Haschel! He was brutal, but i have to grudgingly give him credit for making me the swordsman I am. I believe that you and I remember our first duel quite differently, Olberic, since I'm sure that i was the victor. Although that duel did establish us both as far ahead of our peers. We were both pushed harder after that--I remember barely being able to make it to my bed before passing out some days.  What was the final tally for our duels? I honestly can’t remember. I think that the result became less important than the fight itself eventually. We garnered quite the crowd each time we fought! _

_ Speaking of those days, am I right in thinking that yo _ u _ were the asshole who put water in my boots when I was asleep?  No one else would have had the balls to test my temper like that.  Olberic, I  _ liked _ those boots. Getting you in trouble due to an ill-kempt bow was immensely satisfying. _

_ Did you ever successfully learn to ride a horse? I don’t think I've ever seen such mutual mistrust between man and beast as each time you attempted. Perhaps your huntress helped remedy that slightly?  The war dogs always liked you, though. _

_ I suppose that getting the blessing of a goddess would keep one in shape, but I'm not sure I believe you. You're not one to brag, however. I suppose I'll just have to wait and see if your skill is indeed goddess-like or if you are just boasting.   
_

_ I look forward to your reply, _

_ Erhardt _

 

It took Olberic a moment to realize that he was  _ grinning _ .  A strange, yet welcome, mixture of emotions bubbled through him.

The mental image of him acting as a mother duck made him want to laugh, even as he was chagrined by it.

_ I like to think I’m slightly better than that, _ Olberic thought, reading over that paragraph leisurely.   _ And I know that Phillip would take exception to that description, even if the parents among the villagers might agree with your assessment.   _

Erhardt’s guess on the role of each of his companions based on name alone was amusing.

_ Primrose would have a fit,  _ Olberic thought, a wry smile tugging at his lips.   _ Tressa might actually enjoy being mistaken for a dancer, and Ophilia did study with Cyrus for a little bit, so perhaps she is a bit of a scholar herself.  Still, he was only entirely right on Cyrus and half correct regarding Alfyn. Therefore, he gets only half an explanation and I won’t tell him what part he got correct. _

That decision felt almost... _ playful _ , which was an emotion that had taken Tressa’s determined efforts to reawaken within Olberic.  

_ It appears I owe the young woman a debt of gratitude, _ Olberic thought.

However, it was Erhardt  _ agreeing _ to visit that evoked the most complicated emotions within Olberic.  He fully understood Erhardt’s desire for continued correspondence; such would help him understand Erhardt better, much as the opposite was true.

_I must come up with questions that he will be forced to answer, however,_ Olberic thought as he reached for the small stack of parchment he had left.  _And_ _I will have to ask Tressa for more parchment before I can continue with letters to the others._

Olberic sharpened his quill, mixed the ink as necessary, and began his answer.

 

_ Erhardt, _

_ I am afraid to admit that there are a few parents in Cobbleston who would agree with your assessment.  However, since I do train the town guard as well, I might be more kin to the shepherding dogs the villagers use more than a duck. _

_ Regarding my companions, you were only entirely correct about Cyrus being the scholar.  You were half-right for Alfyn, so I need not tell you as much information. The rest were completely wrong, although I can tell you for certain that your answers would entertain them all. _

_ Regarding Cyrus, the scholar, he is both somehow intense and absent-minded at the same time.  When he wants to learn something, he’ll go to any lengths to achieve understanding, even if it ruffles some feathers.  We were occasionally unwelcome in a town because Cyrus pried too much and irritated the wrong people. It doesn’t help that both women and men find him attractive, which means he tends to draw attention.  We occasionally resorted to asking him to research something in the relative safety of the inn while we were out unless him drawing attention would be beneficial to our goals. Cyrus is also prone to eavesdropping, and more than once butted in on a conversation he had no business being a part of.  While his insight was usually welcome, as long as it had nothing to do with interpersonal interactions, it was nearly impossible to have private conversations. His skill in magic is impressive and, truth be told, occasionally alarming. I am forever grateful that he is not the kind to anger easily or to stay angry, for I fear what would happen if he put his magical skills to use in retribution.  He began his journey because he was relieved from his post due to a rumor that he was sleeping with the princess; his eloquent and flowery turns-of-phrase and good looks lent it credibility, even though it was patently false. He sounded so miffed when recounting the tale, but Primrose couldn't stop laughing. His general demeanor can come off as flirtatious, which also didn’t improve our standing in some of the towns we visited. He an unintentional heartbreaker. _

_ As for Alfyn, I had a drinking contest with him, Cyrus, and Therion, and he’s the only person I’ve met who has come close to beating me; otherwise, I’ve lost to no one but you. His journey has purely altruistic origins. _

_ I will speak of H’aanit and Therion in my next letter, then give you another chance at guessing what professions my friends have.  I’m sure I’ll give something away, so you may have either an answer or a hint by then. _

_ Cyrus thought it almost a crime for a man not to have something to read.  While we were in Grandport, he purchased me a treatise on military strategy, as I had mentioned at some point that my approach to battle is rather straightforward.  It was an interesting diversion when I was having trouble sleeping. He has also sent me a copious amount of teaching material for the children here, so I have been doing plenty of reading. I assume that you are teasing me out of guilt for not having read any books yourself recently.  Do you still favor romance novels as your guilty pleasure? I remember reading one of them to you one evening when you were sick and us both nearly dying from laughter over a few of the passages.    
_

_ I believe I remember meeting an honorable fellow named Bale in Wellspring; he was the captain of the town guard, if I recall correctly. How is he faring?  Please give him my regards.   
_

_ I did send you the letter on a whim.  I felt that I had no reason to  _ not _ contact you, now that I know you are so close.  If I was writing to friend in Flamesgrace, why not write to one much closer?  As I believe I said in my letter, I also want to get to you know again. Eight years is a long time, Erhardt, and we have both changed since our days as brothers-in-arms in Hornburg.  Regret has shaped us and modified how we see each other, the world, and our places in it. I suppose that I wanted to know whether you are, indeed, the Erhardt I remember in my heart, or if you more closely resemble the villain I made you out to be in my head for the past eight years.  Consider this another form of reconciliation between us. I promise to be honest with you, if you agree to hold nothing back from me. Finding out how little I knew about you from a stranger was...painful, to put it lightly. I am choosing to trust you, Erhardt. I expect the same trust in return. _

_ Please send me a letter before you head over here; I would appreciate the warning.  The Highlands in the summer can be a little hot as well, although I believe that my definition of ‘hot’ and yours are quite different. _

_ I had no intention of stopping my letters.  As you said, you can judge a man by the company he keeps, so I expect to hear stories of the men and women you have met along the way as well. _

_ So it  _ was _ you who was responsible for that! I always thought it was. In that case, I no longer feel remorse for hiding your sword belt so you were late to the marshaling field. You deserved that tongue-lashing.  I admit to neglecting to count how many I won after we hit 100 duels total. I think that our duels gained as much attention as they did half due to our sheer physical prowess and half due to how awfully we flirted with each other while sparring.  How often did those sparring matches end up replayed under a very different context during the night? _

_ And, no, I have not learned how to ride; there had never been a need for me to know since those first disastrous attempts. H'aanit did at least provide me with insight into the hearts of beasts, even if I still cannot claim to understand them.   
_

_ Have you learned to swim? Tressa, who lives in a port town, thought it almost criminal that I have forgotten. She resolutely tried to coax me into rivers and lakes we passed to try to teach me, but I informed her that I am happiest on land. There had never been any need for me to fight while swimming, although I suppose it would at least be an interesting skill to acquire.   
_

_ Do you remember our first tournament? Neither of us got very far, and I was disqualified  _ because _ horses hated me so intensely that I couldn't even participate from how they constantly tried to throw me. I believe that I was the only one who cheered you on that time. You were so upset, that the next time a tournament came around, you handily won it. I clearly remember how much you practiced, and how much of it you dragged me into.   You are the reason why I gained such expertise in the use of spears. Forcing you to figure out ways around the long-reach weapon made you as agile as you are--or, so I like to believe. _

_ I look forward to your response, _

_ Olberic _

 

Olberic looked at his candle and startled.  It was only a little over half a candlemark since he began writing his response to Erhardt.

_ Mayhaps Elizabeta is still in town. I can give her this to add to my other letters. She tends to linger in the tavern for a while to rest her feet and eat.  I believe she also fancies Carwyn. _

Olberic sprinkled a bit of sand over his parchment to make it dry more quickly, then shook the excess off.  He addressed the envelope and carefully put the letter inside. He held it gently between his fingers to attempt to keep any still-wet ink from smudging and headed towards the tavern.

Elizabeta was, indeed, at the tavern, and shamelessly flirting with Carwyn, whose face was bright red.  However, the smile on Carwyn’s face said it was more out of embarrassment than anger.  

Olberic wondered it he should interrupt.  Cyrus would, naturally, but Olberic liked to think he had slightly more tact.  

_ I’ll guard the exit out of town that I know she’ll be taking.  I’ll hand off my letter to her then, _ Olberic thought and exited the tavern as discreetly as he could.

He relieved Greigor from his post and said, “Thank you.”

“Fer what?” Greigor responded, confused and wary.

“For your help in protecting this town.  You are a good man, and I thank you for showing me where bandits oft make their lairs in these hills.  It has kept this town much safer and it is due, in no small part, to your efforts.”

“It’s nothin’,” Greigor said, looking distinctly uncomfortable.  “By yer leave, sir.”

Olberic watched Greigor retreat into the town, then turned his attention to the landscape.  Olberic had allowed Greigor to take some of the town men afield to chase away bandits near the town, and the experience had done them all good.  It allowed them to put the skills Olberic taught them into practice--even the times they were forced to retreat were useful. Anymore, Olberic concerned himself with the less predictable threat of monsters, and had begun teaching the women of town the basics of defending themselves; should anyone get by the guards, he wanted them to be able to hold the intruder off or defeat them entirely.

About two hours into his watch, Olberic heard Elizabeta coming up the stairs, and turned to face her.

“Have you managed to seduce Carwyn?” he asked, unable to hide the dry note in his voice.

Elizabeta merely grinned.  “Not yet, sir.”

Olberic took the letter out of his surcoat and extended it to her.  “I apologize, but I have another letter for you. If you could please take this to Wellspring when you get the chance, I’d appreciate it.  I know you just returned from there, so I do not anticipate you heading back soon, so whenever it gets there is when it arrives.”

Elizbeta took the letter, opened her satchel, and put it in.  “It’s not like you to respond so quickly.”

“Our letters are not like the ones you receive from Atlasdam.  Responding to a novel takes a little more time than barely two pages.”

“I suppose,” the courier said.  “Well, I’m off!”

Olberic stepped aside and let her pass.  He had never been so happy to see someone leaving Cobbleston.

\--

Olberic was having a leisurely lunch when a town guard came bursting into the tavern.  Olberic immediately stood, and the guard fixed a rather frantic gaze on him.  

“Come quick!  Our men need help!”

Olberic followed the man out of the tavern; once outside, the sounds of battle were all he needed to hear to know where to go and what was transpiring.  

Years of practice made it possible for him to race up the cobblestone steps, and he found a number of the town guard fighting against a surprisingly organized group of bandits.  

_ No, these are no bandits, _ Olberic thought as he ran into the fray.   _ They are too disciplined and too skilled. _

He blocked three strikes that came his way, then disemboweled one assailant.  The man fell with a gurgling gasp, and Olberic caught sight of an insignia.  

_ These  _ are _ mercenaries,  _ he thought.   _ But, why disguise themselves as bandits? _

Olberic turned aside a strike and stepped into the temporarily unstable attacker, and elbowed him in the trachea.  The man was skilled enough to not drop his sword, but his focus wavered, due to not being able to breathe easily. Olberic turned and brought his sword up and under the man, splitting him in half from the man’s groin to his ribcage.  

Olberic heard an arrow whistling his way, so turned the now-dead attacker so his corpse caught the arrow instead.  Olberic looked in the trajectory of the arrow’s flight and saw a familiar archer standing not too far away, perched between two large boulders, where he had a good area of sight while also possessing a solid defense.  

_ You are not escaping this time, _ Olberic thought.   _ And I will not let you kill my men. _

Olberic had to behead another ‘bandit’ before he was in the clear, and rushed up the hillside as quickly as he could.  Only practice kept his footing solid, as the soles of his boots were slightly slick with viscera. He made sure to approach so that the only way the archer could get a clear line of sight would be to move from his hiding spot.  

Olberic idly wished for H’aanit and her beasts or Cyrus and his magic, since both would be of immense help.

_ I have learned to rely on others as much as myself, _ Olberic thought distantly.  He picked up as large a rock as he could, then heaved it so it would land between the boulders.  He heard a crunch and a yell, and raced over. The archer stuck their head out and let loose a volley of arrows, which Olberic did his best to deflect or avoid--some got caught in the loose fabric of his sleeves and pants, which was, admittedly, the point.   


Olberic finally came upon his assailant, who lunged at him with a dagger from his hiding spot.  However, Olberic was the superior melee combatant and, while it would have given him greater pleasure to cut the man down, Olberic needed him alive. A sloppy strike caused by slippery stones allowed Olberic to knock the man out.  He dropped, and Olberic let him fall to the ground. He wanted to take no chances that the man may, for some reason, carry poison on him.

Olberic heard the sounds of retreat, then exhausted but victorious cries from the townsfolk.  Olberic shifted and looked through the crack in the boulders. Out of about seven mercenaries, he had only killed three--the rest were defeated by the town guard.  While there was one  body of their own among the fallen, one out of so many was impressive.  

_ It appears that the arrows were more of a distraction, _ Olberic thought before a foreboding chill crept down his spine.  He dodged instinctively to the left, and narrowly avoided two dagger strikes.  He brought up his sword quickly enough to deflect the follow-through, and cursed.  He was stuck between the boulders, which meant he couldn’t swing his sword easily.  

_ I will have to thank Primrose and Therion later, _ Olberic thought as he dropped his sword to pull out the daggers he had hidden under his bracers. He wasn’t half as adept as the thief or dancer, but he had bothered them enough that he was a passable hand.  

Olberic’s assailant wasn’t anticipating the change, but recovered quickly and pressed the attack.  There wasn’t room for Olberic to dodge, either, but that also handicapped his assailant; there were only so many angles from which he could be attacked.  

The sound of Olberic’s continued fight drew the attention of the exhausted townsfolk, who rallied enough to start charging up the hillside.  

“Get away from ‘im!” one cried, and Olberic’s assailant spat a soft curse before retreating, sprinting away from Olberic.  Olberic sheathed his daggers, frowning. He picked up his sword, and, in doing so, was low enough to see that the new attacker had stepped on the archer’s neck, killing him.  

_ Mercenaries and an assassin,  _ Olberic thought as he stood and sheathed his sword.  _  Why, though?  Who would have the coin or motivation to attack Cobbleston?   _

“Sir Olberic!”

Olberic looked away from the archer and to an approaching townsperson.

“I’m fine,” Olberic said aloud.  “How fares the guard?”

“Well,” came the answer.  “How’re you?”

“I am unharmed,” Olberic said.  “Do you need my assistance to triage the wounded?”

“Pardon?”

“Are there any guards who need immediate care?”

“Already workin’ on that.”

“Good.  I’d like to examine the bodies of our ‘bandits.’  I have a feeling this attack wasn’t random.”

“You think so, sir?”

Olberic nodded.  “I would also like to thank you all, as well.  Your arrival saved my life.”

“Aw, sir, I doubt that.”

“If you will not take my thanks, then take pride in the fact that you defended your town successfully,” Olberic said.  “Go tend to the injured. I believe the threat has passed for now.”

“Aye, sir.”

Olberic knelt again and turned the body over.

_ Similar enough from a distance, but not the same, _ Olberic thought when he pulled down the archer’s hood to reveal his face.   _ Whoever set this up knew that I would be more interested in the archer, and would likely come alone.  Perhaps the ‘archer’ I fought previously was the assassin of this battle. I am the intended target, but...why?  And for what purpose? _

 Olberic shifted around the archer’s clothing and came upon an insignia, although not one of any mercenary band he was aware of.  He left it on the corpse and stood.  

_ Nonetheless, it seems familiar, somehow,  _ Olberic thought.  Olberic took a few arrows from the nearby quiver and examined them.   _ Black fletching.  And these arrowheads...these appear custom-made.  Whomever is financing these mercenaries has means.  But why attack the village? Why not just wait for me to be out on patrol or guard duty?  Why attack the town and the villagers? _

Olberic sighed.  He took the mask and, using its cloth, held the cloth that carried the insignia.  Using the discarded dagger, he sawed off the symbol and then tucked both dagger and insignia away.   _ This requires further study. _

He stood and returned to the scene of the battle, which the townsfolk had left behind.  Olberic examined each and found the same insignia stitched into their clothing.  

_ I’ll send a drawing to Cyrus.  I’m sure he’ll enjoy tracking down information on the symbol.  Perhaps Ned and Cecily will have some insight, due to their constant interactions with mercenaries who come through Victor’s Hollow. _

Olberic checked the pockets for any letters or orders,  _ anything _ that would give him a clue.  In the end, he came up empty-handed and frustrated.

_ Why?  Why attack Cobbleston?  What could someone hope to gain? _

Olberic dragged the corpses away from town and built a cairn over them.  Everything was too damp to light on fire and he had no magical abilities of his own that would make fire from the aether.  

_ And the entire time I was working, I was unmolested, _ Olberic thought as he passed into Cobbleston proper.  _Again--w_ _ hy ?   _R_ egardless, I should check on the others. _

The tavern was somehow both subdued and congratulatory at the same time.  It wasn’t the first time that they had lost a town guard in fighting off bandits, but each death was a tragedy for their small town.  However, it was also the  _ largest _ force they had ever fought off, so their success was worth celebrating.

“Sir Olberic!” Carwyn called out, which drew attention to him.

“Are you okay, sir?” Greigor asked, although his was one voice among many.

“I’m fine,” Olberic replied.  “How fares the guard?”

“They’re all a little roughed up,” Greigor responded.  “But I think we may make proper warriors of ‘em yet.”

“Your training has been invaluable,” Olberic said.

Greigor grinned and said, “Thank ye, sir.  I think you should let yourself get looked at too, though.  Just to make people feel better.”

“Very well,” Olberic half-sighed.  

Through the celebration of an invasion repelled, however, Olberic found himself staring blankly at his mug of ale as the questions engendered by the battle chased themsleves around in his head.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As a warning, there is tiny, not-really-explicit masturbation scene at the very end of this chapter. There is also persistent head-canon. 
> 
> I started writing this before I began writing any of the other fanfiction I have posted, so there are a few things that have echoes in the others. It's...interesting to come across them as I edit.
> 
> And, as always, nothing Octopath Traveler belongs to me.

A week later, Olberic received Erhardt’s reply.

“I thought that you didn’t favor the heat,” Olberic said warily as Elizabeta handed him the letter.

“What can I say?  Wellspring is turning out to be good for business due to its, ah, _unconventional_ marketplace," she said.  "This isn’t the only stop on my route, you know. People further north will pay good coin to have goods from the south delivered to them.”

“Then perhaps I should be saying, ‘You’re welcome’?” Olberic asked.

Elizabeta snickered.  “Your letter-writing habits are making me a wealthy woman, Olberic.  What if I get so rich that I don’t have to perform this job anymore?”

“You’d do it anyway because you enjoy traveling.” 

“Guilty as charged, I’m afraid.  I’ll be hanging around the tavern for about three hours or so.  Think you’ll have something for me by then? Your letters to Wellspring get longer each time…”

“I will have a letter for you before you are finished your tryst with Carwyn,” Olberic said, unable to keep a dry note out of his voice, which had the courier laugh.  

“See that you do.”

She departed and Olberic returned to his home.  He sat down in his chair and promptly opened the letter.

 

_Olberic,_

 

_Spring has reached Wellspring, and everyone is losing their minds.  For about a week and a half, everything will be in a frenzy of bloom and green, during which a rather large festival is held.  Perhaps one day you can visit in time for it. I think you would enjoy it--you always found pleasure in even the most mundane celebrations.  Then again, we used those as excuses to drink to excess, so perhaps it had less to do with the celebrations and more to do with easy access to alcohol.  I will pick you up a gift from the festival, but will give it to you in person rather than sending it through the courier. I would like to see your reaction in person, regardless of whether it is good or bad.  For all your attempted stoicism, you can be quite transparent. Remember that time we found a store that actually had...intimate erotic clothing...specifically for men? I wonder, do you still have it? It was blue, if I recall correctly._

 

_I never thought I’d hear that someone else came close to drinking you under the table!  Perhaps that is one skill that you have let rust; however, I am glad to still hold the distinction of being the only one to defeat you in that particular contest.  Perhaps this Alfyn fellow is in fact the dancer, as I imagine that sort of lifestyle would require a good deal of alcohol consumption, if just to forget the less savory aspects of such a profession.  I look forward to hearing about H’aanit and Therion._

 

_Cyrus seems to be a rather interesting person.  A man has to be a particular kind of dense to achieve removal from his post via being oblivious to a woman’s attraction.  Although not being allowed into certain towns_ because _of Cyrus’ lack of emotional intellect sounds like interesting stories in themselves.  Do you have any particularly memorable tale?_

 

_So, not only are you a shepherding dog and martial instructor, but also an academic teacher now?  Will wonders never cease? You have definitely changed, Olberic, and for the better, I think. Yes, I still enjoy romance novels--they don’t require me to think, and I do far too much of that anymore.  I remember that ‘dramatic reading’! Gods, I don’t think I’ve laughed that hard in my life before or since. Do you remember the title? I’d like to see whether or not it still exists. Perhaps Cyrus should read it--it is awful, but mayhap it would give the scholar some perspective._

 

_I ran into a few other magic users during my time as a mercenary and, you’re right, they are indeed forces to be reckoned with.  I have found they come in two different camps: while both are completely aware of how terrifying they are, some revel in it while the others try to downplay their skills until needed on the battlefield.  Alas, more are in the first camp than the second. Neither have good social skills. During one campaign, we were without fire because all the wood was damp, so, even though we had found someplace dry to settle down, the chill could possibly kill us even if monsters or men did not.  We asked our mage to magically light a fire for us, and he ended up nearly setting us all on fire instead. We never asked again, as his failure and our reasonable displeasure made him rather cussed._

 

_You have been to Grandport?  You really have traveled farther afield than either of us ever did while on a campaign.  I have heard tales of the market that is hosted their every year. Were you there when it was occurring?  I have, for the most part, stayed away from larger ports of civilization. Perhaps it was because I feared running into you.  In truth, I don’t think I’ve ever seen the ocean. When you and I travel together, maybe we could make a visit to a port town.  I have heard stories of the sea’s vastness, but am not sure I believe it._

 

_Captain Bale is doing well.  He is growing more skilled every day, and the men of the guard look up to him for his martial prowess and intellect, even if his drinking habit dismays some.  In a way, it is good to see the guards’ attention and admiration shifting to him, as it puts less pressure on me; I think I may have become too much of a legend to be relatable in these parts.  It is both flattering and frustrating. He recently commented about the frequency of our correspondence and how, apparently, I am less withdrawn. He seems almost...pleased. Perhaps I underestimated his affection towards me.  I shall try to be nicer to him. Perhaps I, too, can have a friend besides you. It wouldn’t hurt morale, either, seeing us get along. I will be able to get away from Wellspring to visit you more easily if the townsfolk have complete confidence in Captain Bale and their guard._

 

_I am...flattered by your trust, Olberic, and I promise I will be honest with you in return.  I am sorry that I kept so much from you when we were younger--I was full of such anger, such hate.  I loved you, so didn’t want to subject you to that darkness I held. You were the one truly good thing in my life.  You were precious. I didn’t want to compromise your honor, your integrity, your loyalty. Which would you have chosen, Olberic, if I had told you of Grynd and my plans--your loyalty to me as your lover, or your loyalty to the king?_

 

_As a gesture of good faith, I will tell you something that I have told no one else: I have a little brother who survived the attack on our village as well. I haven't heard from him or of him in quite a few years now, but the Sunlands are not the place to hear about a pirate._

 

_I will remember to send warning before I depart Wellspring, and make sure to pack a coat, since I have no doubt that your ‘hot’ is actually quite chilly.  I am glad to hear that you do not intend to cease our correspondence, as I have enjoyed ‘speaking’ with you again._

 

_By the gods, were we really that petty? Should I now find it safe to assume that the majority of my minor misfortunes were your doing? I'm sure that most of yours were the result of my efforts. We were competitive even when causing trouble--I am honestly surprised that we didn't get either killed or discharged._

 

_Did we really have over 100 duels?  I suppose it makes sense, since we’d use them for both practice and to settle any petty dispute we may have had.  Oh, gods, I still remember some of the lines I used on you! How did you manage to continue to duel me and not laugh?  I’m sure that you’re right that our fights drew crowds for out skill with our blades_ and _our lack of skill with our words.  And, yes, I remember our more...intimate...duels that usually followed later that night if the outcome of our daylight duel wasn’t to your liking.  Admittedly, I was always the ‘loser’ in those duels, but gods, was it worth it. I wonder, have you lost your skill with_ that _sword? I can't imagine you having a dearth of 'sparring partners.'_

 

_I live in a_ desert, _Olberic. I have no need to know how to swim. I do find it funny that someone would try to re-teach you that skill. You must sink like a stone._

 

_And, yes, I remember that tournament, and you truly were the only one cheering for me, which felt...odd, at the time. I couldn't fathom why you would support me against people whom you were much closer to and friendly with. That is why I went to you when I wanted to become a better warrior. For some reason, you saw something in me, something strong, and I wanted to prove to you that it was there. That my training made you stronger in the process, too, wasn't a bad side-effect._

 

_I am unsure if you will want to see me again if I tell you stories of the men and women I traveled with.  I did not always run with the most upstanding of company. Perhaps I will tell you of the villagers and merchants here in Wellspring instead.  Due to the caravans constantly coming and going, rarely a day goes by wherein I do not meet an interesting stranger._

 

_Oddly enough, I think that the day I am writing this is an anniversary of sorts. It was our first battle as part of a unit, and, really, distinguished us in two manners: we were truly peerless among those of our group and there was no way I would work well with anyone but you. It was interesting to know that the person who irritated me more than anyone else was a compliment to how I fought. I still hated you back then. I will never understand how we went from bitter rivals to lovers._

 

_Do you have any festivals in Cobbleston? What exactly is there to do there? I at least have the Black Market and the trouble and intrigue that it engenders. I would make some joke about sheep and lonely shepherds, but none immediately come to mind._

 

_Although, I do find myself wondering: back then, when we were lads, why did you help me, Olberic? I helped you because you were the only one who ever kept up with me. I cultivated our friendship because your strength and will fascinated me. But, there was no need or requirement for you to reciprocate. So, then, why?_

 

_I hope to hear from you soon,_

 

_-Erhardt_

 

Olberic regarded the letter skeptically after he finished reading it the first time. 

“Surely I misread that,” Olberic murmured. “There was no way he'd bring _that_ up…”

To his dismay he _hadn’t_ mistaken what Erhardt had written, and Olberic felt his face heat at the mention of the lingerie.  

“Gods, I had forgotten about that,” he murmured.  “But, of course _you_ would remember.  You’re the one who paid good leaf for it, after all.”

It had been a dare, to see if either or both of them were brave enough to enter such a store with the purpose of buying something for the other.

“We both made it in, but only you managed to buy something,” Olberic said as he read that paragraph again.  “And, gods damnit, but you made me wear it for an entire day because I lost that part of our dare.”

_That_ brought back a flash of memory that sent a long, slow shiver down Olberic’s spine.  

“I should respond before Elizabeta leaves,” Olberic told himself as the ghostly memory curled around desire he hadn’t felt in years.  Each time he picked up the quill to respond, his mind would shove at him another snippet of what exactly had _happened_ as a result of the lingerie.  The shame of wearing that, albeit underneath his clothes, had been _intense_ , and yet the very subversiveness had made him glad his pants were baggy--walking around with an occasional spontaneous erection was awkward enough as it was without others also being aware of his condition.  

_And yet Erhardt_ knew _somehow,_ Olberic thought, heat pooling in his stomach and groin.  _I had my revenge, but…_

Olberic voiced a strangled groan as he remembered how he had used the damn thing as a _gag_ on Erhardt out of retribution that night.  

His erection was becoming increasingly difficult to ignore.  

“Letter first,” Olberic told himself firmly.  “I want to get my reply out before she leaves.”

 

_Erhardt,_

 

_I have discovered that the blooming of flowers, trees, and the like leaves me miserable and unable to breathe until it all settles down.  I’m not sure I would be able to tolerate such a concentrated effort on the part of plants. I will try to visit during the festival time next year, though, if just to see what the desert looks like when green.  I can’t fathom it--from my experience, the desert has always been harsh sand, barren rock, and heat. Does spring also affect the Lizardmen? You must be quite busy for the entire week if it does make them come out in greater numbers._

 

_Yes, you and I used festivals as an excuse to get drunk, but that doesn’t mean I didn’t enjoy them on principle.  There is so little joy in life, so any excuse to find it is precious. I wouldn’t mind having a local guide to Wellspring’s festival--there are oft so many stalls and distractions that I don’t know what to even look for. Tressa and Therion both had eyes for quality goods, and I’ve never seen someone barter quite as well as Tressa.  As neither of them are traveling with me anymore, I’ll have to rely on you so I can avoid being hoodwinked by a local craftsman or merchant. I doubt that they would do that if I were with you, given your reputation around town.  You were quite admired and appreciated by everyone I spoke to._

 

_You do not have to get me a trinket, although I do appreciate the thought.  And, yes, I do remember the lingerie store. The piece of fabric, if you could even call it that, was red, not blue, because red is your favorite color and you were the one who purchased it.  Trust me, I remember that quite clearly. That thing has, thank the gods, been lost somewhere during the years._

 

_Yes, Cyrus did indeed get removed from his post as a professor due to his obliviousness, and there are plenty of stories I could tell, although most are too long for a letter; the best one has to be when we were in Saintsbridge and he asked a rather...impolite...question of one of the clerics working in the church.  Needless to say, Ophilia had to smooth feathers over for us to be allowed to return to the town. Cyrus apologized to the cleric, but we still had to convince Cyrus to stay in the inn, for our good more than his, and to avoid further confrontation in the town. Remind me to tell you that story in detail when I see you in the flesh.  Primrose tried very hard to teach Cyrus how to recognize when others were interested in him physically, but he used it more as an intellectual exercise in learning how to observe people and divine their motivations than to increase his own self-awareness. Needless to say, Primrose gave up, although we all appreciated her efforts, futile as we knew them to be.  Perhaps the romance novel_ would _provide Cyrus with some perspective; then again, it may give him another topic with which to unintentionally woo women.  It is probably best that he is not introduced to that particular type of literature._

 

_H’aanit is a huntress, like you said, and old-fashioned by anyone’s standards.  It was occasionally difficult to understand her speech patterns, but she was so forthright and blunt that at least I didn’t have to try to understand her intent as well as what she was saying.  As I feel that she has spent more time around beasts than men, perhaps it makes sense that she wouldn’t know to use guile or trickery. It was why Cyrus and she got along so well, I believe. Neither of them could lie, and neither of them were very perceptive when it came to humanity.  Her constant companion was a snow leopard named Linde. During our travels, she also tamed many manner of beasts to do her bidding, and told me once that she could see into a beast’s heart and learn their mind and intentions, which accounted for her success in her hunts. Her journey with us began due to her needing to search for her lost hunting master, who we later discovered had been petrified by a monster called Red-Eye. The conclusion of that particular tale is oddly bittersweet. While she found and cured her master by killing Red-Eye, it became clear later that we killed a man corrupted by a dark god instead of a mindless beast._

 

_Therion is indeed a thief, or at least was as of the last time I saw him.  However, I heard him and Primrose discussing an acting career, so I am not sure if he has chosen to switch professions or remained following his roguish ways.  He had a sharp wit and tongue, and he was, I admit, the member of our group that I came to trust last. He, Primrose, and Tressa were, pardon the turn of phrase, thick as thieves, which occasionally meant bad things for my sanity.  Therion was quite skilled and is observant in the practical way that Cyrus is not. However, like Cyrus, he got us run out of town more than once, too. Those times required us to buy ourselves back into the good graces of the townspeople and that he return the stolen goods.  Not that such stopped him, of course. He began our journey to have a Fool’s Bangle removed from his wrist, as he had attempted to rob the wrong home._

 

_Speaking of thieves, do you remember that time when a thief made off with your coin purse? When we finally tracked it down, you were mistaken for an infamous Madame in the city, and I was your bodyguard. When we encountered the real woman due to the mistake, she offered_ both _of us jobs, albeit in wildly different capacities. I don't think that I have ever seen you torn between so many emotions, before then or since.  You’re quite handsome when you blush._

 

_I didn’t think mercenary companies employed mages; if I remember correctly, the reasoning was that they were too unpredictable and that many of their abilities could hurt their allies as well as the enemy.  I also don’t remember hearing of any conflict that included the use of magic, but I admit to being at a loss for information once I settled in Cobbleston. News used to come here infrequently, although my correspondence has changed that.  Nevertheless, I am glad you survived._

 

_Yes, I have been to Grandport, as well as a few other locales.  We deliberately arrived there in time for the grand market, and Therion made out like a, well, thief, since the wares couldn’t be guarded at all times, and fat purses were far too tempting.  Tressa actually found her journey completed there. She had, apparently, all the adventure she desired and learned enough that she was prepared to return to Rippletide--after making sure all of us completed our goals, that is.  In truth, I don’t think you would enjoy Grandport. You would draw far too much attention, I feel; you have an air of nobility that would have the merchants scrambling to see how much you could line their pockets. The sea_ is _quite vast, almost to an intimidating extent.  It stretches on to the horizon, a never-ending expanse of deep azure.  I could understand the allure of its beauty, but was quite happy with my feet firmly planted in the sand.  The water was surprisingly cold! I think I would enjoy introducing you to the sea and the beach. I saw some people lazing the day away amongst the sand and surf while others plied their trade and livelihood on the water.  As Rippletide is a minor port, you will be able to experience the ocean without being overwhelmed, should we visit.  I would like to see how Tressa is faring._

 

_Please do keep me updated on Captain Bale and any others you may befriend.  I would like to know them, and imagine that the process of you making friends will be an interesting read.  Did you have any friends in the company that you were in with the mage? Traveling with someone with that kind of danger and, probably, personality, would have bred closeness among the soldiery.  At the very least, there would have been some bonding after barely avoiding being roasted._

 

_Even if you explained to me your reasons and history, I would have chosen to protect King Alfred.  Back then, my duty came before my personal feelings, and if I could not convince you to abandon your plan, I would have stopped you myself.  Although, I do wonder how different things would be if you had told me. I would like to think that I would have tried to help you first, tried to get you to let go of your anger and desire for revenge, but as you were consumed with rage, so was I consumed with being the best knight possible.  I wanted to regain my standing in the eyes of my family, I wanted to no longer be considered a disgrace to my name, and would do anything to achieve that end. I fear I would not have listened to you back then. Neither of us was the friend the other needed or deserved, and I refuse to make that mistake again._

 

_It is interesting to think of you have a little brother!  If he is still alive, I would like to meet him, regardless of whether or not you two got along as siblings.  I’m sure he’d be happy to tell me all the embarrassing childhood stories that you will never choose to share with me.  Then again, just thinking about what you must have been like as a child is amusing. You must have been an unholy terror back then, and I hope you were a bit of an awkward ‘ugly duckling.’  I’d hate to think that you could be as attractive as you are for your entire life; that would be patently unfair._

 

_You and I were two teenage boys who were the best among our peers--it would make sense that we would compete in all manner of things.  I knew that your retribution would be swift and inventive, but there was a strange sort of joy in seeing you flustered.  You were always so aloof, so proud; knowing that I could get under your skin was thrilling. I did not stick burrs in your horse’s saddle, though--that was another trainee.  When I found out what he did to your beast...well, let’s say that he did not make it any further as a soldier._

 

_What kind of food do you have in the desert? I at least have access to lamb and goat, as well as a variety of grains and fruits. The desert seems, well, rather lacking in such things. What do you eat out there? Last I remember, you were quite the picky eater._

 

_I will not judge you for the mercenary companies you ran with, Erhardt.  You were as lost as I was, we just found our way to the same purpose in two different ways.  However, I_ would _enjoy hearing stories about your townsfolk and the merchants that pass through.  Cobbleston is a little out of the way, so traders do not come through here often, if at all._

 

_Cobbleston does have small festivals, although they are more meant to celebrate the Church's high holy days. The people aren't extremely devout, but it is excuse enough to break out the more decadent food and drink. Otherwise, life is dictated by the rhythm of the seasons and the cycle of birth and death. I, for one, am glad that Cobbleston does not house a black market._

 

_Why did I help you? Why did I become your friend? I honestly can't remember, Erhardt. You both fascinated me and enraged me from nearly the moment we set eyes on each other. I, a disgraced scion from an old noble house and you, some low-born commoner, and yet each matching the other, skill for skill, compliment and opposite. I helped you because it helped me. I helped you because it felt good to see you grind your “betters” into the dirt. At least, that was my original motivation. Eventually, I came to care for you, and helped you because it gave me pleasure to do so. Although I suppose it is good to hear that our hatred was mutual in the beginning. I'd hate to think that you liked me and I was rude towards you._

 

_I look forward to your next letter,_

 

_-Olberic_

 

Olberic reached for the small bag of sand to absorb the remaining liquid more quickly, and stared at his desk.  His letters to Erhardt had started off as barely a page. Now, though, they spanned multiple pages.

“Do I really miss him so?” Olberic asked the empty room as he sprinkled a fine amount of sand on the paper.  He addressed an envelope, then carefully shook off any excess sand. He folded the letter, placed it in its envelope, and sealed it.  He retrieved his brief letters to Cyrus and Cecily that held a duplicate image of the insignia he had found on the ‘bandits’ from his letter chest, and headed out.

A quick trip to the inn showed a rather surly looking Elizabeta and an equally annoyed Margaret.  

Olberic cleared his throat, walked over to Elizabeta, and held out the letters.  “It appears I caught you before you were run out of town.”

That caused her to crack a small smile.  She took the letters from him and placed them in her satchel.  

“Margaret, please be aware that your daughter is eighteen, and thus allowed to make her own choices,” Olberic said.  “I have a young friend who I am also very protective of, but experience is a necessary part of life.”

Margaret’s scowl deepened.  She huffed and went back to cleaning her pots with vigor.  

“I’m not sure if you helped at all, but thanks,” Elizabeta said and gave Olberic a small smile.  “I probably won’t be welcome in the tavern for a while, but I’ll still loiter around for three hours before I head off.  You seem to...enjoy...your correspondence with the man in Wellspring.”

“He is a very old friend who I am glad to be reconnecting with,” Olberic replied, desperately hoping that he wasn’t blushing, because it certainly felt like it.

“Well, I’ll be off, I suppose.”

“Safe travels,” Olberic said as Elizabeta pushed away from the table.

“Don’t worry,” she said and flashed him a grin.  “I’ll make sure your letter gets to him safely.”

Olberic followed her out, as he could almost _feel_ Margaret’s curiosity.  He returned to his home and picked up his sword, fully intending to go on patrol when a few key pieces of his letter to Erhardt came back to him.

“No,” he groaned as his head fell into his hands.  “Why did I bring up _that_ story?”

Their experience with the Madame and her...employment opportunity...led to some rather intense roleplay between he and Erhardt later that night.

_It shouldn’t have felt so good to_ own _him, even though it was merely pretend,_ Olberic thought and pointedly put his sword back down.  _And the way he seemed to enjoy it…_

Most nights, Olberic had been required to win Erhardt’s submission, although it was always a battle they both knew Erhardt would willingly and deliberately lose eventually.  That night, though, had been...different...in a number of ways. They usually didn’t have the breath or time to spare for words when intimate, but it had been a long, languid night of pleasure.  Of whispers and quiet moans, of memorizing a body he already knew so, so well, and a gentle, simmering high at Erhardt’s slow, burning kisses.  

_And one of the last times I had with him,_ Olberic thought.  _Perhaps he knew the time for his betrayal was imminent._

Olberic looked over to his small clothes-chest and struggled not to smile.  _Primrose had dancer outfits made for all of us on a whim.  I wonder what Erhardt would think of mine…_

The thought of wearing the rather embarrassing outfit _specifically_ for Erhardt sent Olberic’s mind tumbling down all sorts of _interesting_ paths.  As Erhardt had once played the whore, Olberic found himself wondering how that would play out if _he_ did so.  

_I can’t know for certain,_ Olberic thought even as the erection he had tamed earlier stirred back to life.  _But…_

Olberic spent the majority of his days taking care of other people.  He had a tendency to put the pleasure and well-being of others first, and the majority of his high when having sex with Erhardt had come from how he could utterly break the man down from coherent and rational thought to something more animalistic that reveled in pure sensation.  Erhardt had told him it was a release, to no longer have to _control_ his temper and his wants, and that knowing that Olberic could hold it all safely and without judgement was what allowed him to let go at all.  That amount of trust had floored Olberic, and even the slight memory of the ecstasy he could bring about on Erhardt’s face sent shivers through Olberic.

However, playing the less savory part of the job of a dancer would allow Olberic to be _selfish_ .  Erhardt would be ‘taking’ his pleasure from Olberic instead of the usual exchange between them.  For even a small time, Olberic would be absolved of responsibility, and _gods_ did that sound wonderful.

Olberic could almost _see_ how Erhardt would look at him if he wore the dancer outfit, the low, dark fire in his eyes as the cocky smirk that always sent Olberic’s pulse racing played across his face.

Olberic couldn’t trap a low groan as his skin prickled.  

_“For tonight, you_ belong _to me.  I_ own _you.”_

Olberic had said that to Erhardt before he begun to remove the ostentatious costume Erhardt had dredged up from somewhere; just as Erhardt’s breath had caught upon hearing those words, so did Olberic’s as he imagined Erhardt whispering them to him, the man’s voice low and laced with desire.

Olberic promptly locked the door, then closed and locked his shutters.

_This is ill-advised, it is the middle of the day,_ Olberic told himself, but he knew that it would be impossible to actively guard while his mind kept drifting to the remembered feeling of Erhardt’s hands on his body.  _At least I’m quiet, unlike him.  But,_ gods _, I loved the sounds he made, how he_ screamed _my name…_

Olberic tossed his clothes onto his desk chair, and the chilly barely-spring air did nothing to dissuade his erection.

_I should not_ want _him,_ Olberic thought as he laid down on his bed.  _It is almost like desiring a stranger._

But, even just briefly holding his hand before parting ways at Wellspring had sent a thrill through Olberic, and standing shoulder to shoulder with him in Riverford had left him aching.  Even if his heart was uncertain that it wanted to accept Erhardt again, Olberic’s body knew _exactly_ what it wanted.

He wanted Erhardt’s hands sliding against his skin, carelessly removing the flimsy ‘shirt’ of his dancer outfit.  He wanted to feel the delicate sting of nails being dragged down his flesh, wanted the pinch of tiny, biting kisses along his collarbone.  

Olberic’s hand found its way between his legs and he bit back a moan at how _sensitive_ he already was.

_When was the last time I had sex with someone?_ Olberic hazily wondered as he began to pump himself.

It didn’t entirely matter as he imagined the gentle violations Erhardt would perform on him, the _glorious_ pain inflicted by skilled hands.  Memory and fantasy and _need_ wove together and it didn’t take long for Olberic to come, a long, shuddering exhale of Erhardt’s name passing his lips.  

_“You know what, Olberic?  I think that, even if I lost all my other memories, that I would never forget you.”_

Olberic let his cum-slick hand slide off his stomach and over the edge of his bed as he failed to hold bitter, angry, longing tears back.

_“And you are a part of my soul, Erhardt.”_


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As always, nothing Octopath Traveler belongs to me.

_Olberic,_

  _Spring is indeed the busiest time for the Lizardmen.  They come out in droves to harvest what plant-life and water they can, and, unfortunately, also choose to harvest some caravan goods as well.  It does keep me busy, but I have never had reason to be interested in the festival before, so never cared. I also acted as a guard for many caravan arriving and departing from the festival, so if Wellspring didn’t keep me busy enough, a well-paid job for a merchant filled the time.  I think I would like to meet_ your _merchant--as a whole, they seem to be a very diverse group._

_I did pick out something for you from a stall, and look forward to giving it to you in person.  I think you’ll enjoy it. I’d be interested to see what you would pick out on your own, however.  I’ll make sure that you make it to Wellspring in time for the festival next year. There are some foods that are only sold at this particular festival, and a strange fermented drink that I would like you to try, just to get your opinion on it.  I doubt that anyone would try to hoodwink you, however; you_ are _rather intimidating, and I think fear of what you_ might _do would outweigh the desire to part you from your coin.  I will be glad to play guide for you, though._

  _I do remember you having a hard time breathing around spring.  I never thought to attribute it to plant life, however. How did you come to that conclusion?  Was it something that you learned from your apothecary friend? Have you finally found a way to deal with it?  Your misery was too intense to be funny._

  _I have met men like Cyrus before, and he is lucky to have come across your party and live entrenched in academia.  People like him don’t flourish terribly well in the wider world. You will have to lend me the book he obtained for you, though; I'd like to see what the prevailing military strategy is these days. If I remember correctly, though, you were never one for such. I suppose it is never too late to learn caution instead of running headlong into trouble. Then again, that determination and conviction was what oft made you a formidable warrior. You, if nothing else, always commit yourself entirely to something._

_You have most certainly traveled with a wide range of people!  I would also like another guess at what your companions did. From how you have spoken of them, I am now certain that Ophilia is the cleric of the Sacred Flame and Tressa is the merchant. Such means that Alfyn is either an apothecary or a dancer, as is the same for Primrose.  As going off names did not serve me well in the past, I will keep on paying close attention to your letters in order to divine the answer._

  _Most mercenary bands don’t include mages, this is true.  However, the opponent that we were tasked with fighting was resistant to blades and had a magic user of his own, so working with one was a necessity.  That mercenary company didn’t trade in skirmishes between armies, but were more hired-swords, men and women brought in to fill in the ranks when a protective fighting force was depleted or specialty was required.  That was actually where I met Gustav. He was skilled, if a little green, but it wasn’t hard to see he had potential. I trained him at the time because I felt I had little better to do. It wasn’t often I met a warrior who I knew would survive, and felt that any extra skill I could impart to make sure that at least one other mercenary lived to fight another day was worth at least something.  I am glad I survived that fire blast, too! I believe there is a rather morbid joke that goes something along the lines of, “Teach a man to make a fire, and he will be warm for a while; set a man on fire, and he shall be warm for the rest of his life.”_

  _I met many people during my time as a sell-sword, but I was too caught up in my doubts and emptiness to really forge any worthwhile connections.  I believe there was a young man named Gaston, and a woman named Amalyis. I will need some time to think. Those were bleak, dark, numb years. I hardly remember them, save for the smell of ash and blood. I honestly do not fully recall how I made it to Wellspring, only that I finally found purpose in protecting these people instead of merely hiring my skills out to whomever was willing to pay the kind of coin I demanded; I made myself quite wealthy as a mercenary._

  _I will be sure to pass on your greetings to Captain Bale; I’m sure he will be flattered to be remembered by you._

  _I think I would like to travel to all the places you have been, whether or not you think I may enjoy it.  Grandport and its market are obviously vastly different from Wellspring, which may be refreshing. I would need a guide myself there, however, and, as you are the one who has been there, it would have to be you.  I know I’d be in good hands. Where else have you been? Atlasdam, I presume, since that is the seat of learning in Osterra and I doubt Cyrus would ever willingly wander away on his own. I have only been around the Sunlands since we parted. It was a different enough environment that it didn’t evoke memories of a different time._

  _I remember our...adventure...in Celes quite well._

 The ink used after ‘well’ was different.

  _A man turned beast by a dark God? If it weren’t you making such a claim, I'd never believe it. That sounds like quite the story, and, I believe, one that is better told in person. I have too many questions, and these letters are already getting quite long. I'm not used to writing this much! I hadn’t thought that I missed you so._

  _There is food in the desert, Olberic, else no one would live here. It is simply different than what you are used to. Although you mentioning lamb has made me crave it. I suppose that I'll be able to have some when visiting you, though. You will have to try some of the local food upon visiting Wellspring one day.  I’m sure it would expand your palate quite a bit! I think you are becoming fairly well acquainted with the spices we have in these parts, however--apparently your tavernkeep favors them. I’m curious as to how someone not native to these parts utilizes them._

  _Speaking of tavernkeeps, I promised you that I would describe what the people in Wellspring are like, since I am more fond of them than my memories of my mercenary days.  I suppose I will tell you about Wilhelm first._

  _Wilhelm relocated from the Frostlands to the Sunlands after a nasty run-in with a blizzard.  He decided that he’d rather roast to death than freeze to death, so made his way down here into the sun-baked sands.  His accent is still quite thick, which is amusing to passers-by. It is justifiably rare to hear a northern burr in the desert.  He did not start the tavern, but rather married into ownership. His wife’s family has lived in Wellspring for decades, if not centuries and are thoroughly entrenched.  Esmeralda does most of the cooking, but he has introduced new ways of making familiar foods that incorporate some northern techniques. Some are a hit, others get tossed in the trash as soon as he makes something.  He is a serious, steady man who absolutely melts around his wife. They’ve been married for about two decades now and still act like teenagers in love. If you ask him for the specialty appetizer, spicy, he will tell you a random off-color joke that has made even the hardiest mercenaries blush.  He is familiar with a dagger and brawling, and has used his skills and strength to break up more than one drunken fight. You wouldn’t think it, but I’ve seen him put a man twice his size down with just one punch._

  _What are the people in Cobbleston like? As I said, I have not traveled far, and if I did make my way in the Highlands, I do not recall what it was like. I think I may have heard of the town, but it may be a false memory brought upon by speaking with you. If I am to visit, I want to know what and who I will be dealing with; perhaps even a person you found too precious to take with you on your quest?_

  _Have you been back to Hornburg at all? I visited, once, although I'm not sure why.  Perhaps a form of self-punishment. A reminder of what my actions had wrought, and just how futile and empty my revenge had been. How did you find in yourself enough forgiveness to contact me again? You are truly a remarkable man, and I am lucky to count you as a friend.  May I do that, Olberic? Because these letters have shown me just how much I miss you and your friendship._

  _You know, I think I can pinpoint when I went I decided that you were both my friend and rival instead of_ only _my rival when we were younger.  It was when I became offended when people bad-mouthed you.  I, of course, was allowed to insult you because you and I were on the same level.  Hearing people less than you mock you used to be amusing, because it seemed to me like they were mocking a god who simply decided they weren’t enough trouble to reprimand.  However, gradually I became_ angry _when I heard people insulting you or your skill.  Who were they, to try to bring you down to their level?  Pissants, worthless worms. I took pleasure in beating them into the ground.  Of course, it took me a lot longer to broach the topic of friendship with you, and by the time that came up, you had already begun implementing your scheme to seduce me.  I will admit that your ‘who is the better kisser’ challenge was quite inspired. I would have fallen for that even if I hadn’t already fallen for you._

  _What do you want out of this, Olberic?  Initially, all I wanted was to know you again, if only a little--I felt that was all I was due.  Now, I am reminded of why I felt so lost without you those early years after my betrayal. I promise you, I_ will _find my way to Cobbleston._

  _I await your reply,_

  _Erhardt_

 Olberic sat back in his chair and rubbed his eyes.  “What do I want out of this?” Olberic repeated. “I have no damn clue.”

He looked at the letter again and laid each page out on his desk.  

“I want this to lead to you,” Olberic eventually told the parchment.  “When you come to visit, I fear that I will not let you go. I want you in my life, again. I have _missed_ you, Erhardt.”

Olberic looked over to his door. “What would I do if I opened my door and saw you on the other side?”

Olberic found a number of conflicting emotions rolling through him at the question.

One part of him, one that was still smarting, would shut the door on Erhardt. It was an old bitterness, born from a broken heart and shattered dreams. That part of of Olberic still wanted nothing to do with the man who had rebuked everything Olberic had held dear and had implied that what they had had between them had been a lie.

Another part would step out of his home to speak with Erhardt. He had reached out to him, and Erhardt had returned the gesture, a tentative trust and friendship. However, tentative it still was, and there were parts of his life Olberic still wanted Erhardt to have no part in. True trust had to be earned.

A third wanted to invite him in to speak. Trust was bought with trust, and privacy was required to tackle some of the most grievous wounds between them. 

And an intense part yearned for Erhardt the man, craved his touch, his taste, to hear Erhardt's voice screaming his name. It was a painful desire, and one that Erhardt's letters--and his own memories--had poked at.

“Which would I choose?” Olberic mused, although from how his body seemed to tingle, he knew exactly what his carnal desires preferred.  “I should respond.” 

  _Erhardt,_  

_I hope the Lizardmen are less of a nuisance than usual._

  _I discovered that it was the plant life that caused my misery when a child in Cobbleston gave me a bouquet of wildflowers. I could barely breathe after holding them for only a small while. It didn’t take a scholar to determine what was the cause. An apothecary came around our town, and I asked him if he knew of any way to treat my symptoms. He did, but I can't approximate the medicine on my own, so have to hope another wanderer will stop by Cobbleston; otherwise, I simply suffer through the spring._

  _Yes, you are right--Tressa is a merchant and Ophelia is a cleric._

  _Tressa was the youngest member of our group at 18. She was, after a manner, the glue that held us together. Some of our personalities were quite different and oft at odds, but Tressa had the skill to somehow make us move past petty differences. I sometimes found myself yearning for her energy; when my old wounds would ache, she would have the boundless enthusiasm of youth. It helped that her bartering skills often bought us nights at the inn, supplies, and weaponry at greatly reduced costs. She is quite conniving when she chooses to be. The purpose of her journey was to see the world and to hone her skills as a merchant. I think she did so quite well, but I suppose I will have to see how successful her store is when we visit it in Rippletide._

  _Ophilia is, if I remember her last letter correctly, on track to be the first female bishop in the church of the Sacred Flame. She was a gentle soul in the midst of a group of...forceful...personalities. Not to say that she was passive; more than once her “suggestions” had the rest of us doing what she wanted without argument. She was on the Kindling pilgrimage when she joined us. I feel that the Church is in good hands if she is one of its leaders._

  _You have always had a strange sense of humor. Did you learn that one during your travels? I have met both Gustav and Gaston, and you trained them well._

  _Perhaps it would be good to exorcise your years as a mercenary. Ignoring your demons only lends them strength, and you may find that you have more fond memories than you believe. My life felt desolate before I found my way to Cobbleston; even for a few years after that, I felt empty. At least, until I started to look past my pain and accept that the townspeople had come to care for me, in their own way. I'm sure you'll find that more people have wormed their way inside your heart than you realize._

  _I have been many a place. Flamesgrace, Noblecourt, Sunshade, Victor's Hollow, Bolderfall, and many more. I should visit Victor's Hollow one of these days; I have friends there who told me to consider Victor's Hollow my second home. I met Gustav there, and had to defeat him to learn of your whereabouts. Maybe we could go there together. I am currently the reigning champion of the tourney there and would love to participate in an exhibition match against you. It has been far too long since we last crossed swords in friendly competition._

  _I am not surprised that you would charge a premium price; you have always known the worth of your skill. For the short amount of time that I was with a mercenary company, my outlook on life was simply too bleak for me to entirely care about what my cut of the payment was.  I believe I received a fair sum purely because my skill saved lives and expedited missions. I did not go by name, but my ability has always been clear. Now, I do not have to worry much about leaf, although I am occasionally ‘paid’ as thanks by one of the townspeople every now and then._

  _I will be more than happy to tell you of my adventure when I see you in the flesh. It is, indeed, quite long and complicated, weaving the threads of eight different people together into one coherent tale. How long do you plan on staying in Cobbleston? The story I would tell is not the work of a single day, and you are welcome to abide here as long as you like._

_C_ _obbleston is a rather small and sleepy town. We house a few families, an inn and tavern, an armorer and blacksmith, and a general store. Cobbleston is a minor stop between the Sunlands and Highlands, and we receive enough travelers to keep things interesting, but are far from being anything close to a town. We are primarily a husbandry community, with lamb and goat being our main exports--both the meat and anything else that is found useful. We do a small amount of farming, but the rocky terrain makes it difficult. Being so high up in the mountains, our mornings are often misty and chilly, although the fog clears quickly. The people here are a pleasant, close-knit group.  Few wander far from home, although some do leave and others from outside the village find reason to stay. We are not insular, but change does not come easily, and news is scarce unless asked for. Erhardt, you should know better than anyone that I wouldn't leave a precious person behind. I would have them stand beside me so we could take part in each other's strength. I would have a partner as well as a lover._

  _Strangely enough, I_ have _visited Hornburg, although not much of it. That actually is part of my tale, and perhaps the most fantastical part of it. I might take you to see what we found, at least from the outside. I think you may be as startled as I was to find it._

 Olberic stared at the parchment for a few long minutes before continuing.

  _I forgave you because I couldn't hold onto my hate once I saw what you had done with your life. I saw my reflection in you, as always. You and I, both lost in our pain and confusion, listless until we found our purpose again in wielding our blades to protect others. How interesting, that we both found the same reason. Yet, why should I have expected otherwise? As has been said previously, you have always been my compliment, contrast, and mirror in all things._

  _Yes, Erhardt.  I would have you call me friend, if I may do the same with you.  I did not know how acutely I missed you either. I am glad that I listened to an impulse for once._

  _I am not surprised to hear that eighteen-year-old me was not as subtle as I imagine he thought he was.  I will admit that that challenge was all I had planned up to regarding my seduction scheme. I honestly was unsure if you would respond well, but I don’t think that I have ever truly recovered from that kiss.  When I saw the smoldering fire in your eyes after we broke apart, I knew I was well and truly lost. I’m glad I somehow managed to drag you down with me._

  _As for what I want out of this...I am unsure, but I know that I do not wish for us to be parted again._

 Olberic hesitated for a long moment, as he turned the quill slowly over between his fingers.

  _There is one question that has plagued me off and on this past decade.  It has tortured me on my darkest nights, and is the answer is one that I both need and dread.  It sounds almost petulant, but I must know, Erhardt: you told me when we met in Wellspring that your time serving in the Hornburg army was a lie.  Does that mean that our relationship, too, was a lie? Did you truly love me, Erhardt, or was I just another layer to your deception?_

_I await your next letter._

_Olberic_

Olberic sighed and looked at the pile of letters on his bed. Gabriel, a familiar but infrequent messenger to Cobbleston, had left town immediately after handing a number of letters over to Olberic, so Olberic would have to wait to hand off his reply to Erhardt.  Of course, that gave him time to read and respond to H’aanit, Ophilia, and Primrose’s letters, as well as examine Cecily’s in detail as well, but he liked to keep his correspondence with Erhardt as brisk as possible. It seemed like H'aanit and Primrose were both in Flamesgrace with Ophilia, which was intriguing.  He had noticed that, by the end of their journey, H’aanit and Ophilia’s friendship had deepened into romance, but hadn’t said anything. That both of their letters had been coming from Flamesgrace was unsurprising in light of that fact, although that Primrose’s had also arrived from there was intriguing. The three women did seem to have a report among themselves, so it wasn’t strange--Primrose had just seemed so lost after she achieved her revenge.  

_Perhaps it is good for her to spend some time around the structure of the_ church, Olberic thought. _Even if she doesn’t or never believes, there is a certain peace to be found there._

Wind rattled the shutter of his home and Olberic sighed.  He hated windy days, and the direction the wind was blowing forecasted a storm.  

_I have some time before I have to relieve the guard,_ Olberic thought.  _I should likely be able to get through the Flamesgrace letters before I must subject myself to the elements._

H'aanit's envelope was the smallest of the group, but it turned out that she had much to say; she was simply stingy about resource management, probably from not seeing a town for weeks when out on the hunt.  Olberic was sure that, with larger handwriting and more relaxed language, her half page could have easily fit onto two sheets of paper.

_Dear Olberic,_

_Ophilia continues to insisteth I writen thee, so I shall. I have been abiding with Ophilia in Flamesgrace, and as Linde prefern the climate, so do I preferen the company. Hunting alone is no longer satisfying. Tellest me, Olberic, is such friendship? Tressa sayeth so, but a conversation had with Primrose, who hast recently joinened us, makes me thinken that what I feeleth for Ophilia is not mere friendship.  I recallen having seen thou lookest thoughtfully after my poor attempts to teacheth Ophilia how to hunt, but kept thy words to thineself. I would hearen those words now, Olberic, if thou shouldst parteth with them._

_Spring in Flamesgrace is very kin to winter--I couldst not telleth the difference, but Ophilia insisten there is one.  The weather doest growen warmer, but flowers bloometh not in the trees, nor do animals cometh out of hibernation. I supposen it is much like the desert in such a manner.  I simply must becomen used to the different natural cycles. I wouldst like Ophilia to see spring in S’waarki. She wouldst loveth the flowers, I think._

_Linde doest well, although she hath becomen fat and lazy.  I shouldst hunten more with her, but she doest love being fed without work.  I hunten to keep myself from feeling useless, and Lianna doth seemeth grateful, as do the others in the church.  I doest not thinken that they recieveth much in the way of variety of food. I woulde like to teachen them how to hunt, but Ophilia said that clerics of the Church are to abstainen, as much as possible, from violence.  Primrose made a remark about whether or not they are to abstainen from_ other _pursuits, and Ophilia didst blusheth and glancen at me.  I am not wise in the ways of the world like thee and Primrose, but if she was implying that I shoulde sleepen with Ophilia, I thinken that woulde be...agreeable to me.  But how woulde I asketh Ophilia? She doth be so gentle and sweet and I am, well...my life is the wilde, hers is the sacred. I knowest that thou might not be the best person to asken, but thou also whilt not teasen me._

  _It is strange, truly, how many things have change’d since I left S’waarki.  I didst not imagine I wouldst meetest such people as thee. I apologizen if my letter centereth on Ophilia, but she is...well, she is important.  Any help thou couldst provideth would be most welcome. I woulde have thee tell me of thine life, as mine is not as exciting as it once was in some ways, and much more so in others._

_Linde bids thee hello, as does Z’aanta.  Master has sayeth he woulde like to meeten thee one day, so if thou shouldst comen to Flamesgrace, please send word ahead so I can informen him._

_Taken care,_

  _H’aanit_

 Olberic looked at the letter, amused.  “Well, she is right. I won’t tease her about Ophilia.  I’m surprised she turned to _me_ , though, calling me ‘wise in the ways of the world.’  I suppose it’s my history, but I’m not _that_ old.”  Olberic set aside H’aanit’s letter, then opened Ophilia’s.  

Two lines in, Olberic chuckled.

  _Dear Sir Olberic,_

  _I hope you are faring well._

  _I was hoping you could assist me with something, since Primrose is being_ distinctly _unhelpful; I am desperately in love with H’aanit, but have no idea how to tell her, let alone convince her that I mean to share her bed, if she would have me.  I know that you are probably the last person I should be asking, since your affections lie with men, but you are also the only person I know to have been in a romantic relationship--your attraction towards that man--Erhardt?--and his towards you was undeniable, and the look in your eyes when you spoke of him said that you felt more than pure physical desire.  Please, any guidance that you could give would be very much appreciated. No one has ever affected me like H'aanit before, although I have been attracted to others._

Olberic sat back in his chair and shook his head, amused.  

Therion had once, unironically and completely by accident, called Olberic ‘Dad’, which had flattered Olberic and horrified Therion.  However, Tressa had picked it up as a joke, dubbing Olberic the group’s ‘dad’, even though Olberic had pointed out that he wasn’t _too_ much older; the only person he could even _feasibly_ be the father of was Tressa, but would have needed to be 17 when he became a father.  

“It’s a personality thing, not an age thing,” Tressa had told him with a cheeky grin.

“You are very distinguished and mature, it makes sense that a young man with Therion’s history would look up to you,” Cyrus had commented.

“Would you _shut up_?!” Therion had snapped, his face the same shade as the apples he favored.

_It’s interesting that they would continue to view me as a source of advice even though we have parted, when the gods know that I barely know what I’m doing,_ Olberic thought.  He turned back to Ophilia’s letter.

  _Personal matters aside, things in Flamesgrace are going well.  My studies and duties keep me busy--I had no idea what I was in for when the Pontiff decided that I was worthy of promotion to Bishop!  It is an honor, but I fear that I am not up to the task. Both Primrose and H’aanit insisten that I am more than capable of performing the duties and have been doing so well, but so many people look to the church for hope and guidance and I am not even 22 summers old…_

  _Oh, right!  I would have you know something that I recently heard amongst the congregants.  I had no idea you were of noble lineage, Olberic! You always behaved as such, so I am not surprised, but it was still an interesting tidbit to hear.  Do you know of anyone named Morganna? I am not as good at eavesdropping as Cyrus or Therion, however, so my presence was quickly noted. However, I would have you know that your family is, apparently, alive and well and asking after your whereabouts, since the name of the Unbending Blade has been wandering across the continent recently as a result of our adventures.  They did not ask me, however, so I did not offer your whereabouts. I confess that I was left ill at ease by Morganna’s companion. So, while your family may be indeed concerned for you and your safety, I fear that their retainers or advisers are not. Please be careful, Olberic._

_Primrose has recently arrived in F;amesgrace, as I am sure you can tell from the packet of letters.  She confessed to me that she has been feeling lost and rather lonely without our rambunctious group, so decided to settle down with H’aanit and I for a while.  Flamesgrace is not a particularly bustling nor exciting locale, but it is a good place for the weary soul to rest. Revenge really does leave such an emptiness upon its completion._

  _Alfyn recently passed through Flamesgrace with his fiancee, Zeph.  It was nice to see him again, and he and Zeph look to be a well-matched pair.  I have always been interested in his more medicinally-oriented methods of healing, so spent some time with him and learned some of the newest potions and poultices he has cooked up.  Sometimes, I feel that assisting the body in a more ‘natural’ healing process is more beneficial than calling on the divine to heal all ailments. If nothing, it is simply another thing to study!  Will you be visiting us sometime soon, Sir Olberic? I understand if you cannot--you have your duty to your village and the people you protect--but it would be nice to see you in person once more. Oh, Alfyn did mention that he would be swinging by the Highlands to gather some herbs and reagents that grow only there, so please be on the lookout for him and Zeph._

_Unfortunately, I have heard naught of Therion, so cannot offer you any news regarding him.  If you have any information on him, I’d enjoy hearing it._

_Has Tressa spoken to you about Leon?  I imagine she must have, as it seems he is all she can speak of in her letters to me.  I am unsure what to think of him. While he appears to have put his pirating past behind him, I can’t help but worry that something in his past will catch up to him and pull Tressa into the matter.  I know I should not worry so about her, as she is more than capable of deciding her own fate and her heart rarely leads her awry, but she is_ Tressa _.  I love her like a little sister.  Has she said anything of particular note to you about Leon?_

_Lianna says hello, and also inquired as to when you will be visiting us.  Please do find a way to Flamesgrace soon. Unfortunately, becoming the bishop here has rooted me to the town, so I cannot find my way to you._

_I look forward to your next letter._

_Ophilia Clement_

Olberic shook his head, set the letter down on his desk, then opened Primrose’s.

  _Olberic,_

  _I hope you are well._

_Because I certainly am not.  Watching H’aanit and Ophilia metaphorically dance around each other is maddening.  A part of me wants to lock them in a room and not let them out until they sort out how attracted they are to each other.  H’aanit either chooses to not catch my hints or misses them entirely, and Ophilia is at the paralyzed stage of love-struck.  Still, there is a certain humor in the situation. It is...nice to see people honestly in love. I had forgotten what that was like.  They are too cute together for my heart to take._

_I found my way to Flamesgrace on a whim, but am content here.  There is a beauty in the desolate stillness of the snow, in the ferocity of a late-winter blizzard.  Yet, even in such cold and darkness, life still exists. Love still blooms, even amongst the frozen wastes.  Little is expected of me save for an odd chore or two, but I am otherwise left to my thoughts and my whims. Teaching the acolytes to dance has been entertaining, and, as long as I wear the robes and colors of the church, men don’t bother me._

_As I was contemplating nothing one day, I remembered your man, the one we met in Wellspring--I believe I overheard part of your argument.  He, too, chased vengeance and found only ashes and emptiness at the end. How did you avoid that, Olberic? You could have had your satisfaction, could have seen the man who brought everything you loved to ruin to his knees, blood paid for in blood.  And yet, you let him live. Why?_

_I have contemplated rebuilding the Azelhart house, or, at least, reclaiming it from the elements in Noblecourt, but the thought of returning there makes me stomach sour.  Part of me wants to let it rot--it holds nothing but memories for me anymore. However, it is also because of those memories that I don’t want to see it decay._

_Although, I may have heard that you yourself are disgraced nobility, Olberic.  How intriguing! I was not yet fully instructed in other countries’ noble houses when House Azelhart’s star fell.  Although I think even you may be unaware of your importance in the remnants of Hornburg. Apparently, rumor has it that a will attributed to the late King Alfred names_ you _as an heir.  Something along the lines of, ‘If all the men of my line die, I know one whose honor will never fail the people of Hornburg.  As his own family forsook him, Olberic has become a part of mine, and thus worthy of the crown.’ Admittedly, rumors are merely that--rumors.  I do not know if there is any truth to them, but if there is, well, it appears that your life is going to change drastically. There is little left to Hornburg now, however, most of it absorbed by neighboring countries, and I doubt that anyone would be particularly inclined to return Hornburg’s territory to you.  Although you should keep your eyes and ears open, Olberic. I think your quiet days in Cobbleston may be coming to an end._

_I managed to convince Therion to attempt an acting career, and he is already taking off.  Admittedly, having the Ravus family supporting him likely helped, but I wouldn’t be surprised if you start hearing of his talent.  A thief has to be many people to ply his trade, and an actor is much the same. It wasn’t_ that _large a shift.  It was more a matter of legality._

_I will be staying in Flamesgrace indefinitely, so address any letters to me here._

_Watch your back, Olberic._

_-Primrose Azelhart_

 Olberic set the letter down, a long, slow shudder working its way through his body.  

“Please let that rumor be false,” Olberic whispered as he re-read the paragraph.  “ _Please_ let Primrose have misheard.  I was close to the king, yes, and he said more than once that felt fatherly affection towards me, but I can’t imagine…”

Olberic set Primrose’s letter aside and opened Cecily’s.

  _Dear Olberic,_

  _It’s great to hear from you!  I hope things are going well for you._

  _Business is thriving here in Victor’s Hollow.  You really were the extra kick I needed to get things off the ground.  I’ve got quite a stable of fighters now, and a lot of people are looking for me to represent them.  I always knew I had a keen eye for you fighting men, and I’m forever grateful that I set my eyes on_ you _, Sir Olberic, and that you agreed to take a chance and be represented by an unknown like me._

_Ned’s recovered nicely and has reminded me--again--to tell you that the next tournament is coming up in a few months, and that the crowds would love the Unbending Blade to make a reappearance.  You really were a joy to watch, Sir Olberic, and Ned would love to test his blade against yours one day._

_Regarding the insignia that you sent me, I passed it around and no one recognized it as a mercenary company’s badge.  However, a warrior who originally hails from Hornburg that I recently acquired mentioned that it looked familiar to her.  I gave it to her, and the next day she returned saying that it was the crest of one of the few remaining noble houses in Hornburg that have managed to cling to their land and wealth after the fall of the greater kingdom.  She said that she didn’t remember the house’s name, but the crest had always been so remarkable that she remembered the design. I’d love to know how you came across the insignia, but you don’t have to tell me. I just bet it’s a story worth reading!  I’m sorry, but I can’t help you with more than that. Do come visit in time for the next tourney!_

_Sincerely,_

_Cecily_

Olberic set her letter aside, then rifled through a small drawer on his desk.He moved his letter to Erhardt off his desk and unrolled the cloth and dagger.

The dagger itself was of standard quality, and there were no craftsman marks that would help him identify where the weapon might have come from. The insignia was the more important piece of the puzzle, anyway. 

Olberic unrolled the insignia fully down and stared at it, willing it to give up its secrets.

_I didn’t deal extensively with the noble houses, but I did have to interact with them,_ Olberic thought as he slowly traced the curves of the crest with the tip of his quill.  _Most avoided the Eisenberg pariah, but being in the King’s personal guard would have forced contact to at least a small extent.  However…_

Olberic’s ejection from his family was an old, _old_ unhealed wound.  He had never been given a solid explanation as to _why_ he fell from grace, which made it all the more painful.  His family had made it _extremely_ clear that, while he was allowed to continue to use the Eisenberg name, he wasn’t going to benefit from that connection in any other way, and should consider the rest of the family little better than strangers.  

_I don’t even know who, if anyone, survived the fall of Hornburg,_ Olberic thought as he stared blankly at the symbol. _The Eisenbergs were close to the crown.  It is entirely likely that they fell along with the royal family.  I don’t remember anyone in the family named Morganna, but a cousin could have had a child and I simply would never have met or known them._

Olberic sighed heavily.  He looked at the three open letters, then shook his head and stood.  

“I need some air.”

He put the cloth and dagger away, strapped on his sword, and ventured into town.

It was a blustery day, and the weathervanes were pointing hard to the northwest. The only people outside in the sharp wind were the town guard, and none of them looked particularly happy to be so.   They knew as well as Olberic that a storm was coming, even if the clouds were still grey smudges on the distant horizon. With nothing better to do, Olberic joined Greigor guarding the southern exit from town.

“Lovely weather today, ain't it?” Greigor drawled as his jacket snapped and undulated in the wind.

“It could be worse.”

“It could always be worse, sir.”

Olberic stood next to Greigor, silently meditating on the wind-swept cliff-meadows. 

“Sir?”

Olberic startled at Greigor’s voice, and looked over to the former bandit.  “Yes?”

“I didn’ think ye’d be like this, when I gave up on bein’ a bandit.”

“Pardon?”

“I met ye once before,” Greigor said. “Not surprised ye don remember me. The Unbendin’ Blade had better things to do than remember a servant at the Hornburg royal castle.”

Olberic frowned. “I'm sorry.”

“‘is nothin’. Ye were such a legend that talking to ye in person wasn't anythin’ I ever thought I would do.” Greigor shook his head slightly. “Turns out yer just as human as the next.”

“Of course.  Legends are still only men.”

“Just ‘tis odd. The Unbendin’ Blade is probably nuts-deep in blood, yet ye care about a small town like this ‘un. Why?”

“Because, royalty or commoner, it doesn’t matter. If I can help, if I can protect, I shall. I found Cobbleston when I was at my lowest and they took me in. Why shouldn't I protect the people who need my aid the most?”

Greigor hummed thoughtfully.  “I know ye've been sneakin’ away when ye can t’ go bandit huntin’, to find _somethin_ ’. I got yer back, sir, and so does the rest of the guard.”

“Thank you,” Olberic said. “I am humbled by your trust.”

Greigor waved Olberic's thanks away. “Tis no matter. We have to figure out how t'get along witout you anyway--the occasional monster skirmish is good for the guard.”

Olberic nodded, although a small frown pulled at his lips. _I thought the monsters were becoming more active of late. First bandits, then mercenaries, and now monsters?  And...no, it’s not worth pondering that. It can’t be true. But, I shall still be cautious._

The wind and bright blue sky offered no solace and no answers.


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As always, Octopath still doesn't belong to me.

Erhardt's letter was at the bottom of the stack Olberic had received from his friends purely due to the fact that he likely wouldn't be able to concentrate on anything else except its contents after reading it. He had also received letters from and Tressa and Cyrus. Based on the bound volume that was Cyrus’ letter, it seemed as if the scholar had uncovered more than just the fact that the insignia came from an old Hornburg noble house. Thus, Cyrus’ letter was actually the first one that Olberic was painstakingly working through. 

 

_Dear Olberic,_

_I hope this letter finds you well._

_You will have to pardon me as I immediately set down to business. I have found so many fascinating things about Hornburg.  Thank you for giving me the opportunity to perform this research!_

_The sigil belongs the Hornburgian noble house Schmatloch.  They, along with the Eisenbergs and Engels, are one of three noble houses that have managed to hold on to their title, lands, and wealth after the fall of the kingdom. Even so, their power is greatly diminished from its former height and breadth due to their close ties to the royal family._

_They trace their linage back to nearly the founding of the Hornburg kingdom.  I managed to uncover quite a bit on them, since when Hornburg interacted with outside countries, they usually went through a Schmatloch.  Included in this letter is as much of a genealogy as I could uncover._

Olberic sifted through dozens of pages until he came across a few that were written horizontally instead of vertically.  Olberic traced the lines of the family tree, but came across only one distantly familiar name. The man had been a commander in the army with him, but was marked as deceased.  

_How many people died in those first days?  How many friends and family members and comrades did I lose because I was a coward and ran?  I truly failed Hornburg. I should have…_ Olberic sighed.  _It is in the past.  I cannot fix my negligence._

‘But you _may_ make a difference if you truly are in line to be king,’ a small voice whispered.  ‘Imagine the kind of influence that you could wield. The Unbending Blade is a legend that other nations may, ironically, bend to.’

Olberic shifted uncomfortably and shook his head.  _It is a rumor.  There is likely no truth to it._

Olberic examined the genealogical tree one last time before setting it aside and finding the page where he left off in Cyrus’ letter.

_There are still a number of Schmatloch nobles alive, although they are the least numerous and powerful of the remaining noble houses.  They are, however, the ones who appear to be most invested in restoring Hornburg to an independent nation. While the Eisenbergs and Engels are also angling to restore Hornburg, they seem to be more aware of the difficult logistics involved in such.  After all, the nation has been divided and the land redistributed to other nations. It is surprising that the three were allowed to retain any power at all, but that may be a nod to the prestige of their lineage and an unwillingness to court bad luck by removing houses that are purportedly blessed and sanctioned by the gods.  Also included in this letter, please find a supplement that includes a brief discussion on the activities of each of the three noble houses and the major players in each._

Olberic searched through the papers again until he came across additional, individually numbered and connected packets.  Reading of the Engels and Schmatloch’s exploits was interesting. He distantly recognized names of his peers as well as the family leaders who still commanded respect and power.  It stretched his memory, since he had been avoided like the plague by those in the nobility--there was no need to be associated with a former heir brought low. He worked through the discussion of the Eisenberg’s activity a little slower, a wound he thought healed opening again.  He recognized names of former friends, of family members he had loved, and others whom he had loathed.  

_I wonder what they think of_ that _rumor,_ Olberic thought, a small, bitter smile forming on his face.  _Father must be spinning in his grave._

His family seemed to be doing well enough for themselves, having forged connections with other nations quickly and efficiently.  They were always a cornerstone of the Hornburgian economy, through goods both legal and of dubious legality. Olberic had never had the skill in deception and trade necessary for the Eisenberg inheritor.  He was glad that his half-sister Noelle had taken over. She was brilliant and brutal.

Olberic returned to the main letter.

_I apologize for including so many additional sections, but I felt it wouldn’t make sense to include everything in the main letter.  It simply wouldn’t have been coherent, logical, or clear. In a third supplement, please find what I have dug up regarding the recent history of Hornburg, since the time of the death of its king to the present moment.  
_

Olberic grimaced, then found the next extra packet and began to work his way through it.  It appeared that not only the king, but his queen, family, and most--if not all--high level leadership had been assassinated. Olberic had never wanted to know how far his former kingdom had fallen, but he received a crash course in the sociopolitical state of the once proud nation from the letter. Cyrus had apparently learned enough of human interaction to be a little more delicate around certain matters he reported, which Olberic appreciated. As it was, it still took a _long_ time to get through that section and he was thoroughly depressed by the time he had. 

_How quickly the work of centuries is brought to ruin,_ he thought.  _Truly a tragedy._

There was one small section of the letter left for him to read, so Olberic turned his attention to it--and promptly regretted doing so.

_In my research, I became curious.  Eisenberg is not a common name in Osterra, and yet there was an entire noble family in Hornburg bearing such a surname.  It took quite a bit of searching--which was quite enjoyable, by the way--but I did eventually find_ your _name amongst their number.  You were stricken from most official records.  I knew your manner of speech and bearing betrayed good breeding, or, at least, a very fine education for a soldier, but I would have never suspected that we traveled with the former heir of a wealthy and powerful noble house!  What could you have possibly done to have been so thoroughly rejected? You are an upright and honorable man, unless your youth was tremendously different from the man you grew into.  
_

_During my research, I was also approached by a few Hornburg individuals; I am sure you will be relieved that I lied to all of them.  They asked after the purpose of my research, and I answered that there were rumors of your reappearance in Osterra--particularly at the tourney in Victor’s Hollow.  As that had piqued my interest, I investigated you and your heritage. They did not look like the sort who would inquire after a person with pure intentions. Be on your guard, Olberic.  I fear that my research has done you more harm than good. The kind of rumors I unearthed about you are never beneficial to a man’s health._

Olberic placed the letter down on the desk and rubbed his temples.  _Please, gods.  I was_ relieved _when I was stripped of my title.  I must find a way to remain undiscovered.  Cobbleston is out of the way, nestled in a random corner of the Highlands and of little important aside from a place for a night’s rest.  But, if House Schmatloch can find me here..._

Olberic felt suddenly intensely weary.  _I will tackle this problem if it finds me._

The rest of Cyrus’ letter was a chatty and unnecessarily detailed account of the man’s life at Atlasdam, but it did leave Olberic smiling faintly and reminded him of why he felt gentle affection for the man.  There was a certain kind of strange innocence to him, most likely born from spending more time around dusty tomes than actual people. Olberic organized the small novel he had received from Cyrus, bound it together with a thin piece of string, then set it aside.  

“Hopefully Tressa’s letter will be more upbeat than Cyrus’ and include no mention of a rumor that could turn my entire life on its head,” Olberic murmured and opened the package addressed to him by the young merchant.  In it was an ample supply of parchment, a couple of new bottles of ink, and some quills as well as her letter. Olberic smiled faintly and set aside his new letter writing supplies and opened her letter.

_Dear Olberic,_

_I hope you’re doing well!_

_The money you sent me more than covered the cost of these supplies, thanks for being so considerate!  I threw in a couple quills, too, because I thought they were pretty and you’re probably due for a new one, anyway, given how much you write us all.  
_

_Things are going well here in Rippletide, and I really do hope you follow through with your visit.  Ma and Pa would love to meet you--Ma wants to thank you, even though I insist that I kept us all alive due to being able to get us a place to rest and food for almost nothing.  
_

_Leon says that he might take me out on his ship the next time he leaves port. I know the land routes for trade, but I don’t know the sea routes, and I think being well versed in knowledge of both sea and land trade would make me an even better merchant. After all, if I'm going to trade with various people, I'll need to know what they do and do not have, how to get it to and for them, and what kind of price to both charge and pay. I think it would also be interesting to see different countries!  
_

_How is Philip? Are you training him like you trained Cyrus or like how you trained H’aanit? It really was kind of you to teach Cyrus how to not accidentally cut himself or poke his eye out. He needs life skills. Well, either way, say hello to Philip for me._

_The shop is doing well, and Ma and Pa are letting me run it entirely some days! They actually have started talking about letting me open my own store somewhere else. I guess it's because they don’t want the competition! I'd like to stay on the sea, but Grandport is likely *way* too pricey. I don’t want to leave the country, though, not when all my friends are here. What kind of shop do you think I should run, Olberic? Weapons? Food? Clothing? I just don't know! But it is better to have a focus area than just sell everything and anything. I suppose that may have its own appeal, though. Colzione's Curiosities? I like it!_

_Do you know about H'aanit and Ophilia? Isn’t that just_ adorable _? They're so cute! And I've been_ dying _to tell someone but Therion may have a girlfriend! If he finds out I even_ mentioned _that to you, he'll kill me, but I know you'll keep his secret. Oh, Alfyn came by and invited me to his wedding after he picked up a few things. Isn’t that exciting? Gods, it feels like everyone in our group is finding romance. I've been_ trying _so hard to get Leon to take me seriously, bit he's so_ stubborn _. The worst part is that he has never outright turned me down. It's infuriating! Have_ you _found someone? I can’t imagine that there is anyone good enough for you in Cobbleston, unless someone new has moved there…?  
_

_No, I haven’t heard anything about the aftermath of our defeating a god. I think it is literally our secret. All the other people who had anything to do with it are dead, well, except Kit, but I haven't heard anything from him. It's kind of weird, right? You’d think that someone else would know somehow. At least Ma and Pa could tell that something was different about me. Apparently some of Balogar’s presence has rubbed off on me. Do people give you any different looks because you ‘feel’ different due to Winniheld? It's a little uncomfortable sometimes, honestly.  
_

_Well, I don’t want me letter to get as ramble-y as Cyrus', so I'll end off here. Write back soon!_

_-Tressa_

Tressa's letter was the pick-me-up Olberic needed, although it did leave him wondering about how Winniheld was influencing him, if at all. He knew he was a stronger and more capable warrior due to her blessing, but was there more than that?

_I suppose that is a question I will have to pose to Erhardt when I see him. The villagers, even if they noticed something, wouldn’t comment._

He looked at the remaining letter, sighed, picked it up, and opened it.

_Olberic,_

_The Lizardmen are as they have always been, although with summer creeping upon us, their forays are becoming shorter, but also more ferocious. Unfortunately, the caravan I had expected to arrive in the summer will be arriving in the fall instead for trade reasons that I do not understand.  I apologize for the delay, but I felt it would be unkind to not have an_ excuse _to leave Wellspring.  The caravan heads into the Highlands, so once I have dropped them off, I will go straight to you.  I promise to send you a warning before I leave. All told, upon departing Wellspring, I should arrive at your door in a month.  Again, I am sorry that I will be seeing you later than anticipated. I had been looking forward to departing and being in your presence once more._

_The only thing I would expect less than you traveling with a scholar would be traveling with a cleric of the Sacred Flame, let alone one important in the hierarchy of the church. The Kindling is a sacred journey that only a few are even allowed to contemplate performing. Were you allowed to observe the ritual? It is said that something of the Flamebearer remains behind in the flame they renew. What kind of flame did Ophilia kindle?_

_What is there really to say of those empty days? I traveled as far from Hornburg as possible; perhaps I was running from the repercussions of my actions, perhaps I was running from you. Either way, I barely remember the names of towns or the faces of my comrades. I tried to pretend I was no one, because I_ felt _like no one. I do remember shreds of campaigns that I participated in. We settled disputes between petty lords through force of arms, guarded wealthy and slow-moving caravans from monsters and bandits. We were employed by towns to clear out particularly vicious animals that made their homes too close to humanity and livestock. I remember battles and bloodshed, smoke and sickness. I tried not to make friends, because I seemed to always lose them, to them moving on to a different company, staying behind to be continually employed to another, be it person or city, or death. I did...awful things, Olberic, in an attempt to fill the gaping hole where you and Hornburg were. Those are stories better told in person, for every time I try to force my hand to write one, I lose my courage.  
_

_You really have traveled more than I speculated you did!  Although, why would you be in Sunshade, of all cities? It isn’t the sort of place I would expect to find a man such as you.  Then again, one can only be celibate for so long. You were--and still are, I presume--too passionate a man to abstain from the warmth of another forever.  I have never been to Victors Hollow; however, I think I have heard about the tournament you mentioned. I am not surprised that you won that tournament--it was probably barely a challenge for someone as skilled as you. I have never seen the purpose of exhibition matches, but I will be happy to cross swords with you again under friendly circumstances.  
_

_I am sorry to hear that you had days as dark as mine. I am glad that you found people that pulled you out of them. My opinion of the townsfolk has risen from “useless villagers” if they were able to help you during your own crisis of purpose._

_I intended to stay in Cobbleston as long as it takes you to tell your story, if not longer. I have nowhere to be, Olberic. I do not think I will be returning to Wellspring once I depart it. The town guard in Wellspring has grown strong enough themselves and skilled enough to train others. Wellspring no longer needs me. However, I remember the impact you had at Riverford, and I wonder if there are other places like Riverford and, if so, whether or not I'd be able to help in a similar way. The purpose is the same--to protect--the location would merely be different.  
_

_To that end, I would travel with you wherever you would go, Olberic. I spent the last eight years yearning for something I couldn't name; it was only when I saw you again that I realized it was you. Thank you for forgiving me, Olberic. You are by far the better man than I. Even after all the heartache I put you through, if you would have me, I would stand with you.  
_

_I was reminded of one of our misadventures the other day.  Do you remember the time we were kicked out of the tavern in Khazsas?  We were both drunk, and I had, unsurprisingly, grievously insulted someone.  You stepped in to keep me from getting beaten by a man three times my height and twice as broad.  You defeated him in an arm-wrestling competition twice, and he couldn’t believe that he would lose, so he started an_ actual _fight.  We got away with nothing more than bruises and a story, but I’m pretty sure he and his friends came off much the worse.  However, due to how the copious amount of of mundane chores and guard duties we were assigned for the next week, I became suspicious and did some research.  The man I had insulted was an Archduke and the person you had defeated was his Knight Commander! I’m astonished we weren’t discharged, but I suppose that would have been admitting that he was bested by a junior soldier.  Are you still a happy drunk, Olberic?  
_

_Gods, the stories I have of our occasional tavern crawls...you remember almost none of the best moments, since those were almost always times you were well and truly gone.  Do you remember the year we attended a local festival somewhere in the northwest of Hornburg and you were chosen to play the part of the festival’s king? I wouldn’t be surprised if you say you don’t remember much--I don’t think I’d ever seen you quite so drunk before.  You didn’t_ want _to fulfill that role, of course, you thought it should go to a local young man, but they were insistent.  I may not have helped, as it was a_ fertility _festival and I made a comment about your more intimate weaponry being proportional to your height.  You were the judge of a number of games of skill and chance and participated in--and won--a few yourself, even though the mead just kept flowing and you never said no, as you felt it would be disrespectful when you were getting everything free of charge.  They enjoyed you being drunk as much as you enjoyed being drunk. I have never understood how your mind can take a holiday while your body remains steady as ever.  
_

_I am...honestly surprised that it took you until now to ask if I loved you.  I know it would have been one of my first questions, once I was sure you weren’t going to stop responding to me.  
_

_Yes, Olberic.  I loved you then.  I loved you so much that it terrified me. Such was why I had to win our duel, why I had to kill you, because then you wouldn’t have to live in a world where I betrayed everything you love.  If you were gone, I would never have to atone for my sins. I'd never have to worry that, one day, I would be face to face with you again and would have to deal with the personal consequences of my actions.  But, now...I want to do better, be a better person and a better friend to you. That is, truthfully, all I really deserve. Please believe me, Olberic. I treasure these letters too much to lie to you._

_Yours,_

_Erhardt_

Olberic leaned back in his chair and slowly re-read the letter, a small smile threatening at the mention of the festival.

“What are a few more months of waiting?” Olberic said aloud.  “It has already been almost a decade. But, then what? He said he would travel with me...perhaps we could go visit Tressa together. I’m sure she’d be interested in meeting Erhardt in a non life-or-death situation, and I want to see if this Leon is who I think he may be _._ ”

Olberic looked around his sparse home and grimaced.  “Whenever he arrives, I will put him up at the inn. It does require me explaining matters to Margaret and Carwyn, however.  Well, I have survived worse than embarrassment.”

Olberic stood and stretched. _Time for some practice. I should probably put the men and children through their paces as well._

Olberic moved to strap on his sword, but his fingers caught on the leather of his belt and he ran his hand along its length. 

_It’s already been a year and a half since I saw you last,_ Olberic thought _. What will I do when I see you in person again? What will_ you _do when you see me?_ Olberic sighed. _What will I ask of you? What will you ask of me?_

He draped his belt back over his chair and sighed. The battles he had fought when traveling with the group had been glorious, and saving the world, even if most people didn't know how close they came to destruction, was a quiet point of pride. Together, they had defeated a _god_. 

_And yet, how much harder it is to defeat my own hopes,_ Olberic sighed. _What will come will come. I need to prepare the villagers as much as possible until Erhardt arrives, as I do not know how my life will play out after that._

Olberic equipped himself, then walked outside of town, seeking to clear his head with a little more vigorous practice than usual. However, he was halfway to his normal practice area when he stopped dead in his tracks as parts of Erhardt's letter came back to him.

_Did he really…? Yes, he did,_ Olberic thought. 

Olberic wouldn’t deny that he had found some pleasure in the arms of strangers over the years, but it had been to fulfill a purely physical need; it hurt when he realized that the people he picked all looked a little like Erhardt. Such was also partly why he had found his way to Cobbleston and settled down. The homogeneity had kept the ghost of Erhardt from him and allowed him to shove the memories where he could ignore them.  

_But, now…soon enough, I will be seeing Erhardt again,_ Olberic thought. 

Unbidden, the most recent image of Ergardt came back to him: resolute and haughty, a burning intensity in his eyes that made Olberic's pulse race.

_If we hadn't been busy with helping the townspeople get back on their feet and rooting out all the corrupt guards..._

A quiet, greedy part of Olberic bemoaned the fact that they had been in separate rooms, although that may have been for the best; it was entirely possible that no actually sleep would have occurred if they had shared one.

Olberic rubbed his temples and sighed. “Focus,” he murmured to himself. 

However, that made his mind focus on one other particular piece if the letter.

_“I would stand beside you.”_

The phrasing was deliberate, but even if even if it wasn't, it sent shivers up and down Olberic's spine.

_No_ , Olberic told himself firmly. _I shouldn't...I won't. Just because my dreams are plagued by him, that I find myself remembering small things doesn't mean I need to...I don't have to fall for him again. There is too much between us, both good and bad._

He continued his trek to his practice area, fighting against memories the entire way. 

Erhardt and he sparring together, his muscles burning with exertion even as he had never felt so alive.

Erhardt and he drinking together after a battle, both to celebrate surviving and to mourn the lives of their fallen comrades. 

Erhardt's face pale but resolute as Olberic stitched up a wound.

Erhardt's hands gentle as he helped pop Olberic's shoulder back into place. 

Erhardt's touch far less gentle as he nearly tore off Olberic's clothes in a desperate need to make sure Olberic was whole and unharmed upon Olberic escaping from enemy imprisonment. 

The touch of Erhardt's lips on his own sending fire through Olberic's body.

Bruises in the shape of Erhardt's fingers left behind by Erhardt's tight grip on Olberic's shoulders, mementos of fierce pleasure.

Erhardt's body flush to his own, skin-to-skin, Erhardt's fingernails leaving bright pink scratches as he writhed and demanded _more_.

Olberic stopped in his practice field and rubbed his face. 

“Stop it,” he told himself firmly. “This is neither the time nor place.”

_“But maybe someplace else and some other time?”_

Olberic sighed, Erhardt's pseudo-taunt echoing through him.

“How often did he say that?” Olberic mused as he drew his sword and began his drills.

He felt better after the hard workout, and, upon changing out of his practice clothes, sat down to respond to Erhardt.

 

_Erhardt,_

_I, too, am sad to hear of your delay.  I was looking forward to seeing you in person.  Even though it has only been around a year and a half, it feels like so much longer.  I suppose it’s because I know you are so close that your presence haunts me. I will hope that the caravan arrives sooner than anticipated._

_Yes, Ophilia and the church allowed us to observe the Kindling.  I was surprised at how simple it was. I was expecting it to be a much more elaborate ceremony.  It was nevertheless quite powerful and profound. Her flame was gentle but resolute, a bright beacon of hope to those struggling to find some.  It truly does speak to her personality. Perhaps we should travel to Flamesgrace so you two may meet. You seem a more religious man than I remember, but, I am not sure how much I actually knew of you back then.  It will be interesting, seeing you interact with her._

_It sounds like, even though you did it for money and for less moral reasons, you still devoted your blade to the protection of others.  If you cannot write of your experiences, then we will simply exchange stories when you come to Cobbleston. I would hear of your life over these past years.  You might even find a sort of release in telling me the stories. You know I will not judge you too harshly; both of us were lost and listless for quite a while.  I am heartened that we both found purpose again in the same pursuit. Amusing, isn’t it? We were always just as similar as we were different._

Olberic turned the quill thoughtfully between his fingers before continuing.

_I did not find my pleasure in Sunshade, although I have found solace in the arms of others, yes; however, not since I arrived in Cobbleston.  I did meet a very good friend in Sunshade, though; that was where I first encountered Primrose. I, along with Ophilia, Cyrus, and Tressa, helped her take down the cruel master who had held her captive for years.  She was reluctant to accept our help in the continuation of her quest to avenge her family, but Tressa is exceedingly persuasive and it is hard to say ‘No’ to Ophilia. I was happy to let the women do the talking, as I was sure I would fumble the attempt, given Primrose’s poor experiences with men over the years._

_I think that you and I would put on quite the show for the crowd at Victor’s Hollow.  The twin blades of Hornburg crossing swords! I am sure that Cecily would make a fortune off of promoting our spar alone, and that a great many people would win or lose life’s savings on its outcome.  I wonder, Erhardt--we always exchanged wins and losses regularly. That being the case, I wonder who would win? Or, perhaps, would winning even be the point? What say you? We shall visit Victor’s Hollow together, I can introduce you to Cecily and Ned, and I’m sure an exhibition match before the yearly tourney would make Cecily a rich and happy woman._

Olberic stared at the parchment for long enough that he had to mix new ink before continuing.

_Cobbleston will never be the kind of town that will_ not _need my protection; however, like you, I believe that I have provided all the men--and most of the women--the skills required to protect themselves from petty banditry.  Perhaps it is time that I travel again as well. It would be a pleasure to have you at my side, but know this--while I have forgiven you as much as I can, I will not let you stand behind me._

_I have no recollection of either of those events.  I am glad that I saved your life and provided entertainment for not only you, but for an entire village.  I suppose it is both good and ill that I have little memory of my worse decisions during those years, and I am grateful that I had you to watch over me during those times.  I have learned my limits since then; and, yes, I am still a ‘happy’ drunk. Do_ you _still have the hangovers from hell?  Traveling with an apothecary taught me an exceptionally good hangover remedy.  I would like to try it on you, should we share dinner together here in the tavern one night._

_The stories I recall from our shared time in the army more have to do with the challenges you and I engaged each other in, the campaigns in which we participated, and the mundane matters of daily life._

_I remember how you would crawl into the bedroll with me and stick your freezing feet in between my calves to try to warm them up as you buried yourself into my bedroll and body when we were on campaign.  The first time you did it I nearly killed you merely out of surprise. It was the first time we had left Hornburg and traveled deep into the surrounding mountains, where the snow never fully melted, in order to rout a band of mercenaries and thieves that were preying on the people of Hornburg and those who would engage in trade with us.  There were rumors that it was organized by a small, local lord who had delusions of grandeur and sought to take some profit for himself through extortion and the like. We had found shelter for the night, and I was deeply asleep from the long, grueling trek when there was suddenly a rush of cold into my bedroll and it was as if someone stuck icicles into my lower legs.  Only the fact that you were also clinging to my clothing kept me from being able to reach my sword. I was going to yell at you, but the others were sleeping and you were shivering too hard for me to be angry for long. It didn’t take too many nights for me to give in and just let you_ share _my bedroll.  I didn’t mind the company, although I did have to fight a few duels to make people keep their gossip and snide remarks to themselves and away from the ears of superiors._

_I remember all the times we stood night watch together, keeping each other awake through kisses and inappropriate touches.  It started with you pinching my butt, which, naturally, made me retaliate in the same manner when you seemed to be dozing off.  It didn’t take terribly long to progress to groping, and then brief, intense kisses. There was that one time when it was just after mid-night and we were both struggling to stay awake even with kisses, and you decided that it would be a good idea to give me my first blow-job then.  We almost got_ caught, _Erhardt.  I would have been mortified, but you merely seemed_ smug _about it all.  Admittedly, all it took was you reminding me of that occasion to keep me awake subsequently, even if I did resent you for having me half-aroused for the rest of the watch._

_I remember how, after each time we spared, we would patch each other back together, laughing and taunting and flirting the entire time.  I learned how to set bone because of you, and you learned how to stitch a wound closed because of me. We both learned how to make a basic blood-clotting_ _poultice_ _and how to fashion bandages out of whatever we had on hand.  I think we drove the castle apothecary absolutely mad from how often we found ourselves in her care.  Her name was Mikaela, if I recall correctly. After a while, she handed us over to the trainees because her nerves and temper couldn’t stand us any longer.  Any apothecary who came on campaign inevitably recognized us both and had a look of long-suffering on their face far before there was any need of their skills.  I think we were in their office at least two to three times a week when we were behaving._

_I remember how much_ trouble _your temper got us into and how we only ever got out because of our strength of arms, much like the archduke story you recounted.  It never helped that you were an awful flirt and seduced many a nobleman’s daughter out of simply wondering if you could; although I’m sure making me jealous was also part of the reason.  I’m pretty sure you dueled every single nobleman who had a daughter and had the misfortune to visit the capital. I have no idea how either of us survived our youth._

_I am unsure whether or not I am relieved or not over your answer.  In truth, it perhaps leaves me more bitter than before. I will never understand the anger that drove you to act as a spy for so long, although I perhaps have some more insight after traveling with Primrose, as unhappy she would be to hear me say that.  My love for you and your love for me was not enough to counteract the hate and anger in your heart, which then makes me wonder if I ever truly loved you at all and vice versa. But, if you would be my friend, if you would stand beside me, then I would be your friend and stand alongside you.  It will be difficult to tame how much my body aches for you and your touch, but I have managed to do so for quite a few years now; it will be a more difficult task, but not an impossible one._

_I am thinking that, once we are finished our time in Cobbleston, that we travel north to Rippletide.  Tressa lives there, and I would like to check in on her, and perhaps bid her safe travels before she goes to sea to learn the ways of a sea-faring merchant now that she better understands how to be one when traveling overland.  What say you?_

_I await your next letter,_

_Olberic_

 

Olberic sat back and looked at the _pages_ he had written and shook his head.  Elizabeta hadn’t been the courier to bring the letters, and wasn’t due in town for at least another day.  

_I have time yet,_ he thought.  _I should reply to Tressa and attempt to gain a little more information about this Leon fellow._

His hand hesitated as he reached for pieces of parchment to write to Tressa, and he let it fall. 

"I wonder...should I ask her what she has heard? She is a merchant, and thus gregarious enough to loosen tongues that would otherwise prove obstinate. It wouldn't hurt, I suppose…" Olberic sighed. "Although I don't know why I would like to confirm the rumors. I suppose it is merely because I want to be prepared. Because if these rumors have credibility to them, I may have to leave Cobbleston. But, then, where would I go? This is my home _."_  

Olberic sighed, picked up a few pieces of parchment, and began a response to Tressa. 


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As always, nothing belongs to me.

Olberic was standing watch when a greeting rang out behind him from the town proper.

Olberic took a second to look over his shoulder and smiled slightly at the sight of Alfyn waving enthusiastically at him, Zeph walking more sedately beside him.

"Alfyn, my friend, it is good to see you," Olberic said warmly and clasped hands with Alfyn briefly before offering his hand to Zeph. "It is good to see you, too. I'm sorry that I know you by name alone. Zeph, correct?"

"That's right," Zeph confirmed with a warm smile and shook Olberic’s hand. "It's a pleasure to meet you in person, sir. Alf here is introducing me to all his friends before he settles down and into the life of a married man."

A small but alarmingly potent spike of something that felt like jealousy briefly rushed through Olberic, but he shook it away. "Shall Ophilia be officiating? She offered us both that service."

Alfyn actually blushed as he nodded, a wide grin forming on his face. "That she is!  You’re invited, y’know," Alfyn said.

"I appreciate your invitation," Olberic said. "When are you planning on having the ceremony?"

"Around midsummer," Zeph said when Alfyn looked at him for information. "We agreed to have it at Saintsbridge, since that is the closest Cathedral."

_To get to Saintsbridge, I would have to pass through the Sunlands...and perhaps make a detour to Wellspring,_ Olberic thought, his heart missing a beat. _I could see Erhardt either going to or returning from..._

"As soon as you know the date for certain, please notify me," Olberic said. "I'll need a little time for travel preparations, and may end up traveling with Tressa, if only for safety in numbers."

"Sounds like a plan!" Alfyn responded. "Now, I'm awful thirsty. You got a tavern here?"

"With some of the best food in the Highlands," Olberic replied with a small smile. "If you tell Margaret that you are friends of mine, she will likely give you a discount."

"Nothin' for free?"

"Not everyone can live off of charity," Zeph told Alfyn, exasperated affection in his voice. "She has a business to run and, likely as not, a family. We can afford to pay her, Alf."

"It will also keep you from draining her ale supplies dry," Olberic added, which made Alfyn laugh and Zeph sigh.

"He told me about your drinking contest," Zeph said. "I would have liked to see someone finally drink Alf here under the table."

Olberic chuckled, his pride not allowing him to admit to how close he had come to losing.

“I am going to be on watch for another three hours or so,” Olberic said.  “Will you still be about town?”

“Oh, yeah,” Alfyn said.  “Gonna go find some supplies around here, but we’re gonna stay the night at the inn.  Right?”

Zeph nodded.  “The air is thinner and the climb wasn’t easy, so we’ll rest the night here before moving on.  You’re out last stop, actually, in terms of Alf’s friends. We’ll head through the Sunlands and then probably hunker down in Saintsbridge until the wedding.”

Every time even the barest mention of _wedding_ came up, Alfyn beamed, which Olberic found endearing.

_There is so little good and happiness in this world,_ Olberic thought.  _I am glad that he has found his._

“Well, then, I hope you find the ingredients that you are looking for, and perhaps we can have the evening meal together and catch up on what has transpired since we saw each other last.  You and Therion are the only ones with whom I have not had regular contact.”

“Regular contact?” Alfyn repeated.

“I write letters to our group, to keep in touch,” Olberic said.  “You all were--and still are, considering how people still come to me for advice--family.”

“Aw, shucks,” Alfyn said.  “Well, when we get back to Clearbrook, I’ll make sure to write back to any letters I get from you!”

Olberic smiled.  “I’d like that.”

“And I’ll make sure he remembers,” Zeph said.  

“Be careful while about,” Olberic said.  “Monsters and various rogues have been about more than usual of late.”

Both men’s mein turned serious and they nodded.

“We will,” Zeph said.  “Thank you for the warning.”

Olberic nodded in reply and watched the two walk away; he had to shove down _another_ potent spike of jealousy at how casually Zeph took Alfyn’s hand in his own.

_Do not be petty and envy another person’s happiness,_ Olberic scolded himself.  _If I had asked Erhardt to marry me when we were their age, Erhardt would have laughed at me and asked if I were drunk._

A small, traitorous voice whispered, _“But what about now?  If you asked and he said yes…?”_

Olberic squashed the hope.  _I barely know him anymore.  If I ever would ask him to marry me, it would certainly not be anytime soon.  And anyway, if I really am--_

Olberic forcibly stopped himself from following that particular thought to its conclusion.

“I don’t want that rumor to be substantiated,” Olberic murmured to himself, his words whisked away by the ever-present Highland wind.  “But, if that is so, then why do I keep pondering it?”

It was hard to focus on the landscape when a thousand different thoughts rattled around in his head.  Olberic took a deep breath, held it for a moment, and let it out in a slow, steady stream, trying to let go of the tension in his muscles with the exhale.

_What will be will be,_ Olberic thought.  _For now, my sword and my life lie with these people._

It took a great deal of effort, but eventually his troublesome thoughts were blown away like the early-morning Highland fog, allowing him to center himself once more on the present, and let the future and past attend to themselves.

He was relieved of his post just as a slightly-dirty Zeph and Alfyn hiked up the mountainside, their words and laughter lost to him as they approached.

“Did you find what you were looking for?” Olberic asked as he fell into step beside them, guiding them towards the tavern.  

Alfyn patted his bag with a rather dusty hand and said, “Yup.  Some things you can’t find anywhere but here.”

“It does not appear that they were an easy find,” Olberic said as Zeph brushed some dirt out of Alfyn’s hair.  

“Nope, but that’s half the fun,” Alfyn responded.  “This the tavern?”

Olberic nodded and opened the door before gesturing the two younger men through, and followed on their heels.

“Welcome!” Carwyn called out, her posture perking up slightly at the sight of two new customers.  

“Carwyn, these young men are Zeph and Alfyn,” Olberic said as the two sat down.  “Alfyn is a friend of mine, so I hope you treat them well.”

“We got some fresh goat stew cookin’ with some of the spices we got from Wellspring,” Carwyn said.  “Was gonna test it out on you, but looks like we have two new victims--I mean, taste-testers.”

Alfyn snickered as Olberic felt a wash of relief run through him.  His stomach was starting to not be able to handle the spicy meals that Carwyn seemed to favor.

“Wellspring, huh?” Alfyn said as Olberic nudged them towards a table.  “Wasn’t that guy there? The red guy?”

“Red guy?” Olberic repeated, more amused than he felt he had a right to be.

“What was his name...Bart?  No, there was an E...”

Olberic couldn’t stop himself from laughing.

_Erhardt would have a_ fit _if he heard that,_ Olberic thought as he quickly tamed his mirth, although was unable to stop smiling.  “Erhardt. His name is Erhardt.”

“Was kinda close,” Alfyn said as Zeph merely shook his head, chagrined.  

Olberic sat down with them both and thanked Carwyn when she put a mug of ale in front of each of them.  “What have you been doing, Alfyn, since our group parted ways?” Olberic asked.

“Went back to Clearbrook, told Zeph about everything,” Alfyn began.

“Everything?” Olberic repeated.

“ _Everything_ ,” Zeph confirmed with a long-suffering sigh.

“Spent some time there, wandered into the nearby areas--nowhere too far--to pick herbs and brew better ‘n better potions.  Still helpin’ out as best I can.”

“I proposed about six months ago, and we’ve been doing a lap of Osterra to invite you all to the wedding and to pick out herbs that we probably won’t be able to get out to pick for a while,” Zeph said.  “This amount of traveling is also to make sure that we’ll be able to live happily together. If you can take someone complaining about blistered feet in subzero weather in the Frostlands and still love them, there are very few hurdles that can’t be handled.”

“Hey, we finally got that topical analgesic right, though!” Alfyn protested as Olberic chuckled softly.

“You said you’ve kept up with the others?” Alfyn said.  “I’ve seen ‘em all, but I’m sure there are things I’ve forgotten when we talked.”

“I have, but those stories are many and long.  I have a question for you, however, since I am sure you recently visited Tressa.  Do you know anything of a man named Leon?” Olberic asked. “Tressa fancies him, but I don’t fully recall him.  I think we met him at Victor’s Hollow, but I was...distracted.”

The drive to find Gustav and pry information regarding Erhardt out of the man had overtaken almost all other considerations.  

“Leon?  Uh, he was a pirate, but reformed after a good friend’s death.  Seems like a good enough guy. He an’ Tress did seem to get along well,” Alfyn replied.  “We talked more about our adventure than him, though.”

Zeph took a drink of the ale to clearly keep himself from saying something, but Olberic chose to let it lie.  Some things didn’t have to be known.  

Alfyn, Zeph, and Olberic ended up talking deep into the evening, interrupted only by the influx of villagers for the evening meal, whom Alfyn easily charmed.  Olberic enjoyed taking the time to speak with Zeph, and found him a soft-spoken but brilliant young man, whom Olberic was sure would be a grounding influence on the occasionally overzealous and hot-headed apothecary that Olberic had traveled the continent with.

However, for the first time, Olberic found himself _wistful_ instead of giggly when tipsy.  

_What would we be like now, Erhardt and I, if I had overcome his anger or if he had given it up?_ Olberic wondered as he slowly, idly sloshed around the dregs of the ale in his mug.  _Would we still be together?  Or would something have driven us apart?  Would we be...would we be_ more _?  I suppose...it is not worth considering.  Things are what they are. But, gods, what I wouldn’t do to know that I had someone to return to upon a journey’s end._

Then he hiccuped, giggled, and decided that morose reflections were best saved for a more sober mood and allowed himself to be dragged into an arm-wrestling competition.

\--

_Olberic,_

_I can now say for certain that Primrose is the dancer; thus, Alfyn is the apothecary. It was easy once you told me where you met Primrose--after that, it was simple process of elimination. I look forward to learning more about those two. Your little band sounds more improbable the more I learn of them. A cleric and a dancer traveling together with a thief and merchant. Your group must have been a study in contrasts indeed. The townsfolk certainly have stories after your group whirled through town, I imagine! And, yet again, I can easily see you playing shepherd or mother duck to such a motley crew.  How they mist have infuriated you sometimes! I'm intrigued, Olberic--tell me of a time you wanted to absolutely strangle them and one time that left you feeling warm and relaxed._

_I am too much of a loner to have those stories myself, although I suppose I could tell you some stories from when I trained a few warriors. Gaston was one of the more frustrating, Gustav one of the easiest. It took time to teach Gaston--to train many green recruits--how to even properly hold a blade. So many treat it like little better than a butcher's cleaver, and just hack at their enemy and hope to win purely through overwhelming force. While your technique does rely more on strength, you still have form and economy of movement, and knowledge of how to best leverage your strength through the extension of your blade.  The only reason I trained anyone at all was because it gave me some modicum of purpose and kept me occupied and not wallowing in guilt and memories. Otherwise, I would have never taken it upon myself to train anyone at all; I am simply not cut out for that kind of patience and tolerance. I swear, at least when we gave each other injuries or injured ourselves, there was at least some subtle flaw in our technique, not that we had the reaction time of a slug. I think there was really only one time each that we both ended up nearly dead through a flaw in our own skill, and those were the times we were captured by enemy forces. I don't think you've ever held me so gently as the time when I escaped and made my way back to you, although I know that I was much less gentle when you returned to me after your capture. I...I think it was one off the few times that I have ever been truly scared._

_We have always been compliment and contrast to each other, Olberic._

_I would not call myself religious, per se, but my mother was very devout and I could blame men more easily than gods for my misfortune, so I suppose some of her devotion has remained in me. I did receive quite a few incredulous looks from some of the other soldiers in my mercenary companies when I kept the church calendar, but other people's opinion of me has always mattered little to me.  I remember that you bought me a charm of Brand's shield one holiday--i fear that I have lost it, but I firmly believe that it saved my life on a few occasions. Naturally, that was called superstitious bullshit by more than one comrade, but being able to beat them into the ground taught them to keep their opinions to themselves. I should buy you a charm of your patron goddess. Maybe you could bless it for me, that i may carry some of her power with me._

_Who are Cecily and Ned? Cecily must be a promoter, if us having an exhibition match would make her rich. You are right in that neither of us had a winning or losing streak in duels, so would you lose to me in front of such a crowd? I doubt you would give me the victory easily, but I am certain that I would win. So, yes, we should visit Victor's Hollow together. I think it would be enjoyable, if only because I don't think I have spent much time in the Woodlands and would like to see the area. We have no deadline, so we can wander as much as we like._

_I understand and respect your reason for not wanting to have me at your back. I have not done anything to earn that much trust as of yet, and doubt that I will for a long while. I do appreciate your willingness to stand shoulder-to-shoulder with me again, however._

_Yes, my hangovers are still miserable, although I have learned ways to either suffer through them or prevent them all together. Unless you are insinuating that we are to have a drinking competition again so you can deliberately test out your hangover cure on me? I think it would be worthwhile if just to drink you under the table in front of a village of witnesses. The unbending blade does bend to some things._

_You remember so much more of our time in the Army than I do. I suppose that comes from my sedition. The fewer fond memories I had, the easier it would be to betray the king and kingdom. Although i do find your choice of memories...intriguing._

_I live in a desert precisely so I can avoid cold--while I would enjoy visiting Flamesgrace for the Cathedral and your friend, I don't think that I would be able to handle the weather; at least, not without your help, one way or another. I always got snickers for how much more clothing I had to wear when in the colder climes, but I like to think that the extra padding and weight let me learn how to better fight when encumbered. To be nimble even if three or more layers was no easy feat, but it was indeed something I managed to accomplish through a combination of necessity and stubbornness._

_I always hated guard duty, but having you by my side always made the hours pass quickly, even if we merely stood in silence. I remember that...situation...that you mentioned quite clearly, Olberic, and I only did that because you had made a bad habit of giving me hand jobs when I looked like I was going to pass out from how hard we had trained during the day. I had to get back at you somehow, but you were too tall for me to simply pin you to my body and have my way with you. I'm glad I was able to make you uncomfortable, because each time your hand rested against my hip, all I could think of was how deftly you undid my sword belt and how quickly your hands found their way beneath my clothes.  During the night watch, it was lovely. During the day watch, I wanted to kill you._

Olberic felt his face heat. "I...did I really? I doubt he would lie to me about such a thing, but surely I wouldn't have…" Olberic shook his head and returned his attention to the letter.

_Mikaela! Now_ that _is a person I haven't thought of in years. I hope the old witch is doing well. She always liked you more than me, so I always ended up with the new apprentices while you had the more seasoned ones. I bet she'll live two hundred years to a day just out of spite and worry._

_You are accusing_ me _of being the flirt, Olberic Eisenberg? If I had daughters fawning over me, you managed to unwittingly seduce many a lord's son. Your rugged good looks, genteel breeding, and strength of body and mind had people aching for you. I thought you did it on purpose! That was why I flirted with so many of the ladies of the court; I couldn't bear to think that I was the only one suffering from wild jealousy._

_I, too, sometimes wonder how we made it to our age. The stupid things we did, the risks we took to prove ourselves to each other and to the world...gods. do you remember the time just you and I covered a retreat against an entire army? I never once thought that we were going to die or lose, because I firmly believed that I was too skilled and you were too stubborn. I wouldn't say that we_ won _that fight, necessarily, but we did hold them off long enough for back up of sorts to arrive and for them to become demoralized enough to give up and retreat. Hells, i remember how much we got yelled at for playing heroes, although I do believe that that is how we earned our monikers. Your courage and skill was unbending in the face of such danger, and I believe there was something a bit more poetic about my fury, person, or sword itself blazing in the heat of battle. Either way, that was when we became legends._

_My temper and your obstinacy was what got us in trouble, Olberic. I might cause trouble, but you were the one to see it through to its conclusion for good or for ill. It is both your greatest failing and most positive trait. There were so many things you should have let lie but didn't because a challenge of some sort had been issued, and you never backed down from those._

_I am occasionally unsure if your flirting is deliberate, although from your accusing me of being a flirt, I think it is unintentional. You should watch what you write more, Olberic, for if it will be hard for you to tame your body when we meet, it will be near impossible for me to control mine. My dreams have grown more explicit of late as it is; my mind does not need your encouragement._

_Rippletide sounds as good a place to start as any. I've always wanted to visit Grandport, so perhaps we can tour the Coastlands together? We needn't go swimming, of course, but I think it would be interesting to finally experience the ocean. I would also appreciate the chance to meet your friends in person._

_I am counting down the days until the caravan arrives and will send words as soon as we make to leave Wellspring._

_I look forward to your next letter,_

_Erhardt_

Olberic set the letter aside and looked at the pages thoughtfully. _Perhaps I should tell him that I am going to Saintsbridge for a wedding and would like to visit him on the way and take him with me on the way back,_ Olberic mused. _Or, perhaps...just take him with me in the first place. I'm sure Tressa would enjoy traveling with the two of us and getting to know Erhardt better, considering how pleased she was over mine and Erhardt's reconciliation of sorts._

Olberic picked up his quill.

_Erhardt,_

_Primrose is indeed the dancer as is Alfyn the apothecary. Alfyn recently visited Cobbleston, in truth. I have been invited to his wedding in Saintsbridge at midsummer._

Olberic paused and regarded the parchment, turning the quill between his fingers as he considered his next words.  

_As you were considering leaving Wellspring at midsummer prior to the delay in the departure of the caravan as it was, would you be interested I'm traveling with me to Saintsbridge and then continuing our travels after the ceremony is completed?_

Once the words were written, a long, slow shiver worked its way through Olberic's body. 

"To travel the same road with you, sleep beside you, laugh with, settle into silence around the campfire at the end of a day's walk...what would that be like? So much has changed and I am trying to not…I will simply have to be resolute," he murmured. 

_I met Primrose at Sunshade, as I indicated previously, and helped her throw off the yoke of her master, thereby freeing both her and the other dancers who were caught in his grasp. She was chasing the murderers of her father to bring them to justice. I felt some sympathy for her situation, and was thus happy to assist her. I chased much what she did, after all...at least until I learned about your past and saw you again. She is as sharp with her tongue as her dagger, but for all of her thorns, she is still beautiful and kind. She is currently residing with the huntress and cleric in Flamesgrace, so it seems like if you truly would meet my friends, to Flamesgrace and the cold we must go.  I'll see about finding a bedroll that can fit both of us so you can keep warm._

_Alfyn hails from the town of Clearbrook and is indeed an apothecary. He has been trying to live up to the memory of the healer who saved his life when he was a child, and thus started his journey to provide as much care and succor to those he came across as possible. He frustrated Tressa because he barely charged enough to cover his meals, and, as a consummate merchant, she simply didn't understand. He was able to make friends wherever we traveled, although I fear he still has some maturing to do. I am glad Zeph--his betrothed--has chosen him, since I think they are each other's foils. Alfyn finished his journey by honoring the memory of the man who healed him by replicating the medicine that saved his own life._

_Ah, I have too many stories to tell  of our travels! I could tell you of epic confrontations we had, of how we defeated a cult and self-styled savior; I could tell you of snowball fights and nights around a campfire in our hunt for Red-Eye. Of how we uncovered a plot to cause the apocalypse, and how Therion nearly had his hands broken from stealing from the wrong merchant at Grandport. Of how we helped a young man gain closure and reunited family members. So much happened during our time together that there is not enough parchment to convey them all. Perhaps I can tell you all of them around a shared campfire or when we have to wait out a storm. I'm sure I have forgotten some, but they were all precious._

_I remember when I rescued you from that slave camp. Even when emaciated and beaten, you still shone bright and proud among the downtrodden. I simply couldn't trust anyone else to take care of you like I could. You were too skittish and distrustful. It was both pain and pleasure to help you return to your normal self, to see your fire rekindled. I was flattered that you trusted me so much, but also fiercely proud of how strong you were, how quickly you bounced back. I am sorry i scared you when I was captured, Erhardt. I have figured that was the case, but I would never had died there--I had you to return to, and we had promised each other that we would only fall in battle, not through any other means. I remember acutely how you needed to explore every inch of my body, catalog every wound and bruise, kiss away the harm that had been inflicted. You said that you would protect me, that you would never let anyone harm me again._

"At least, not until you did that yourself," Olberic murmured as he dipped the quill in ink again.

_I am no holy man, but I would be happy to attempt to bless an amulet of Winnehild.  If Brand's shield was able to protect you, perhaps her sword would grant you unsurpassed strength. I admit to thinking that you do not need the divine intervention to augment your strength, although it may be more caution--i  would prefer you not use it against me. I know where all the shrines to the Gods are throughout Osterra, so perhaps we could also go on a pilgrimage of sorts to visit them all. As they are fairly scattered, it would also give us the opportunity to explore some._

_Cecily is indeed a promoter, and she and Ned are a team of sorts. It was I who actually helped her get off the ground. She helped me enter the tournament, where I found and eventually spoke to Gustav. In return, my winning has helped her build a "stable" of fighters, which sounds extremely odd.  I will not lose to you so soon after gaining the crown at the tourney, so I agree that it will be a truly spectacular fight. I will write to Cecily to query after her interest, since I am sure that there must be some sort of preparation required._

_I feel that my years of drinking competitions are behind me, but if you challenge me to one, you know I won't decline.  It feels odd, reminiscing about our days as lads. I haven't thought of some of the people that appear in my memories in years. I wonder how they fare? I left Hornburg in disgrace and shame, although I now feel that the greater shame is in not remaining. I only recently learned through Cyrus performing research on my behalf just how much things have changed. So many of my family members are deceased or missing; people I grew up with, who we rose the ranks alongside...all gone. The country itself is still in shambles, although a few noble houses are apparently struggling to make it at least a country again. However, with all the infighting and questions over who should assume the throne, that effort seems to have stalled._

Olberic looked at the paragraph, suddenly uneasy. "I'm sure he knows at least some of the realities of Hornburg--he said that he visited once. But, what if he has heard the rumors?" Olberic shook his head. "Best not to borrow trouble."

_Did I truly do that to you? I remember being very concerned with being the best soldier I could be, so something that overt and that skirted formal reprimand would seem uncharacteristic. However, I see no reason why you would lie to me.  I'm sure it did keep guard duty more interesting, though, so do not apologize for what younger me did._

_I don't think that I believe you!  I have always been awful at flirting, and was sure that you tolerated my heavy-handed attempts because you cared for me and found them endearing. Perhaps people merely mistook manners for flirtation.  If I have written anything that could be considered flirtatious in these letters, it was purely by accident, I assure you._

_I will be happy to re-introduce you to everyone as more than my enemy and rival from Hornburg. You mean so much more to me than that, and they deserve the chance to get to know you outside of our history. You mentioned us becoming legends--that makes me wonder if our names have found their way into the history books.  I should ask Cyrus. I know that we are rumors, word-of-mouth tales spread among warriors and that even the common folk can at least recognize our monikers. What would you have written of us for future generations? Brotherhood and betrayal. Friends and enemies. Would, or should, the world know just how much we mean to each other? I'm sure that there are still stories to be made of our exploits, and look forward to finding out what they are._

_Let me know your thoughts about traveling to Alfyn's wedding with me. If you do not wish to attend, I can return to Wellspring and gather you there before heading off. Either way, I look forward to seeing you soon._

_Olberic_

Olberic set his quill aside and stood. "Perhaps I can get Alfyn and Zeph to make me a few potions and salves or convince them to teach me before try leave town."

Olberic picked up his sword, strapped it on, and left to seek out the affianced apothecaries. 


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As always, not mine.

Olberic strongly disliked assassins, and on a deeper level than just the fact that they had few enough scruples to kill people for money and little else. That he found himself staring down the one that had attempted to take his life twice before was both gratifying and frustrating. 

Gratifying because he finally had the chance to defeat them in open combat. 

Frustrating because Olberic had been caught unaware while doing laundry, and thus he was clothed only in his sword-belt and sword. He wore little enough armor as it was, but he would have to be extra careful, given that the assassin's weapons were likely more than just simple blades.

He threw his wet shirt at the assassin, who easily dodged it. However, it was enough of a distraction that Olberic could unsheathe his blade. He brought it up in enough time to block the next two strikes and executed a wide, sweeping cut to give himself room to breathe and a second to take stock of his opponent. 

They were clothed entirely in black, including a mask over their face that showed only their eyes. They moved with the power and grace of one who knows their craft through practice and survival, and Olberic had to work to put his blade between himself and what was likely certain death.  However, the assassin clearly relied on surprise to bring their opponent down quickly, and were not expecting Olberic to be so deft on his feet, let alone having noticed him at the last second to escape what should have been the first and final blow.

_I will need to buy Therion a drink when I see him next_ , Olberic thought absently as he dodged a strike before returning it.  However, the sound of metal on metal attracted the attention of one of the town guards, who set off the alarm. 

The assassin's eyes narrowed in frustration and and he disengaged from Olberic and bolted.  Olberic tensed and turned when he heard the whistle of an arrow through the air, but the arrow came nowhere near him, instead finding its mark in the back of the assassin. 

He found the archer to be Angelika, who looked quite pleased with herself as Greigor grinned widely.

“Thank you,” Olberic said.

“No problem, sir,” Greigor replied.

“I have never been overly adept with the bow, so I am glad that you have been teaching it to those who want to learn.”

“Between ye teachin’ swords an’ spears, I figured addin’ a bow wouldn't be bad.”

When Olberic turned to thank Angelika, her face was bright red and she was pointedly looking anywhere but at Olberic, which reminded Olberic of his laundry. 

“Griegor, could you and a partner check the body? I know you have a sharp eye and trust you to look for what other people might miss.”

“Sir,” Greigor replied and tugged Angelika away. 

Olberic surveyed the state of his laundry and sighed. He had lost a shirt entirely due to a dagger strike, and his pants and remaining intact shirt needed to be cleaned _again_ after being trampled in the dirt, which meant another trip to the well for water. 

"I _liked_ that shirt, too," Olberic grumbled. He hung up he newly re-soiled clothes so they wouldn't get even dirtier, dumped out the used water, and sighed as it slowly soaked into the grass and dripped down nearby stones in small waterfalls. 

“Sir Olberic?”

Olberic turned to see Timm--one of the shepherds he had rescued--slowly walking over to him, a bundle of clothing under one arm as he used a crutch under the other to support his weight. 

“Ma wanted me to give these to you,” he said. “She said that they probably wont fit you, but it's better than running around starker.”

Olberic smiled. “Give her my thanks.”

Timm smiled back and looked at the mess left behind after Olberic’s brief battle.

“What happened?”

“I'm not sure,” Olberic responded. “Hopefully Greigor and Angelika will come back with some information.”

“Yes, sir,” Timm said, sounding thoughtful. “I think...I think I remember more about what the bandits were saying when I was caught.”

Olberic's attention shifted immediately. “You do? Would you mind telling me what you remember?”

“Not at all, sir,” Timm responded. 

Olberic quickly changed into the too-small clothing, grabbed two empty pails and gestured for Timm to walk with him to the town well, which was fairly close to Timm's home.

“Lotta what they said I couldn’ really hear because everythin’ hurt. They did mention you, though, sir.”

Olberic fought back a frown and simply nodded. “Can you remember what they said about me?”

Timm hesitated, then said, “They said something like, 'The unbending blade must he broken.' I'm sorry, sir, I didn't catch much. Heard Eisenberg a few times. Clear enough that they didn’t like you much.”

Olberic hummed thoughtfully. “That is...unfortunate.”

“Only one of ‘em talked like that, though. Sounded better-bred than the rest. The normal bandits wanted loot, food, and safety. Jakov and I were just...lures.”

_Which I fell for,_ Olberic thought. “I am glad that I could rescue you in time.”

“Me, too, sir.”

They came upon the well, and Olberic hooked one pail on the end and said, “If you or Jakov remember anything else, please tell me.”

“Of course, sir.”

“Otherwise, how has your life been?”

Timm accompanied Olberic as he went back and forth between his house until the tub was filled again. Timm talked about his mom and sister, about wanting to go back to shepherding but unsure if such was possible, since his leg didn't seem like it would ever work the same way again.

“Well, you are a very intelligent boy,” Olberic said. “I am sure you will figure out something that plays to your strengths.”

“Thank you, sir.”

Timm and Olberic were still having a leisurely conversation about nothing in particular when Greigor returned. 

“Boy, I hear your ma callin',” Greigor said, although all three of them knew it was a lie. Nevertheless, Timm nodded and hobbled off to his home.

“What did you find?” Olberic asked as he wrung out a shirt.

He heard a choked laugh from Greigor before the man said, “Same insignia as the one you showed me. Some pretty potent poisons, too, although it seemed like all of ‘em were meant to paralyze, not kill. Guessin' that's why you're still standing, sir. They weren't tryin’ to kill ye.”

"Odd," Olberic murmured. "What would they have done upon my capture? I am not a small man."

"Aye, would have needed at least two people to carry you."

Olberic frowned. "We should likely still be cautious, then. The assassin may have an accomplice hiding in the hills."

"Yessir," Griegor responded solemnly.

Olberic made sure his still-wearable laundry was hanging where it would not accumulate dirt or debris to dry. “Did you find any letters or anything else of interest?”

“Angelika got a few things, but I can't read, so ye'll have to go over them yerself.”

Olberic nodded and examined his handiwork. “While I feel a little silly walking around in this, I would rather--” 

“Sir, don't worry,” Greigor cut in. “Go stay in your home. We’ll bring it to you.”

“I do not wish to impose…”

“The Unbendin’ Blade has to keep up some of his reputation, and walking around in clothes a few sizes too small don't help that.”

Olberic smiled faintly as he was nudged into his house, and shook his head once the door was closed.

“I suppose I do need to keep up appearances somewhat,” Olberic mused at the door.

After some searching, Olberic found a pair of pants that would suffice and pulled them on just before there was a polite knock on the door.

His stomach twisted as the irrational desire from Erhardt to be on the other side swamped him. 

_And it would be so much easier to…_

Olberic shook his head, trying to dissipate the cloying thought. 

_It is likely just Greigor,_ he told himself and strode over to the door. 

Upon opening it was, indeed, the former bandit, who held out a small, bound package to him. 

“This is everythin' we found that looked even a little interestin',” he said as Olberic took it from him. “Mayhaps ye'll find somethin’ helpful.”

“Thank you.”

“Don't,” Greigoe said. “Whatever is in there might be somethin you don't want to know. That's how I've survived, you know, by not askin' questions. Still, good luck, I suppose.”

Olberic watched Greigor walk away before turning back into his home and walking to his unofficial ‘letter desk.’ He had sent his letters out with another courier who occasionally came by Cobbleston, and whom Olberic knew to be just as reliable as Elizabeta--although the extra leaf Olberic offered was insurance on delivery. Unfortunately, he had yet to receive anything back, but that didn't worry Olberic overmuch. Letters took time to deliver, write, and send. That he could write ones to Erhardt in under an hour said something, although he wasn't entirely sure what. 

He sat down and began the painstaking process of examining the personal effects of the person who had been sent to kill him.

The insignia was the same as the one he sent Cyrus and Cecily, which made him sigh. 

_Wonderful. Schmatloch doesn't want to kill me, but capture me. Then what? Try to use me? Find out if anything was true? Kill me at their leisure? Use me as a pawn or leverage?_

It had been a very long time since he had to consider a situation with any kind of political bent; since his expulsion from his family, Olberic had eschewed politics as much as possible. Most of his days had been focused on training and warfare, save for when the king requested his company. Olberic had cherished those moments; it was rare for anyone to ask after his opinion on anything other than military strategy or arms and armaments.  That the king--of all people!--would deign to spend time merely conversing was flattering and made Olberic feel _valued_ as a person as well as a soldier.

_Perhaps the rumor isn't as far fetched as I want to believe,_  Olberic admitted. _The crown Prince certainly called me brother without a trace of duplicity._

Olberic found a letter amidst the bundle Greigor had retrieved, and found it unaddressed, which piqued his curiosity.He turned the envelope over in his hands, trying to discern if there was any way a trap could be hidden in the envelope. Out of caution, he grabbed a rag and tired it around his mouth and nose and carefully opened the letter away from him. 

It didn't seem like anything had been triggered, but he dumped the contents of the letter out on the floor first. Again--nothing.

He kept the rag on his face as he picked up the sole piece of paper and carefully unfolded it.

It was entirely in cipher.

“As Cyrus would say, ‘The game is afoot.’  However, what is the game?” Olberic murmured to himself.  “And do I want to _know_?”

Olberic put the letter down and ran his fingers over the parchment.  Olberic knew High Hornburgian and the multiple writing systems that it used as well as a few other languages and their systems--he _had_ been the heir to a noble house--so some of the characters looked _familiar,_ but combined in odd and nonsensical ways.

“I am no scholar,” Olberic sighed, folded the paper, and set it aside.  “Maybe I’ll get lucky and the key to the cipher will be in here somewhere.  Doubtful, but…”

Olberic continued to slowly sift through the package: a few knives with hollowed out insides like a snake’s fang, bandages, three vials of some liquid that Olberic had no desire to test, a few more pieces of paper, a flint set, a compressible spyglass, and a few other odds and ends required for travel, all wrapped in a black cloak of exceptional quality with the Schmatloch insignia stitched into it.  

“I don’t _understand_ ,” Olberic whispered.  “Why now? It has been nearly ten years since the fall of Hornburg.  Why would this will turn up now? Why would people take it seriously?  Hornburg...doesn’t have much of a chance of rebuilding itself into the kingdom it once was.  But, people believe it. Why? Anyone who knew me, even in passing, would know that this is something that I would never pursue.”

_Truly?_ A part of him whispered.  _After all the indignities, the lies and slander, if someone approached you now, crown in hand, and proclaimed you king...would you truly say_ no?

He shifted uncomfortably in his chair and shook the thought away.  Another thing that had driven his family mad was that Olberic’s dreams and desires had been...small...in their eyes.  He had wanted to be a knight and a member of the king’s personal guard--but that was where his ambition ended. He had no thought to expanding their house's influence, no need to angle himself such that he would bring them even closer to the crown.  He was a simple man, a warrior with no skill at words or politics. A man with a blade.

_Why they ever thought I would make a good heir is beyond me,_ Olberic thought with a soft sigh. _But, now…my family was power-hungry, but even they wouldn't have dreamed of the crown._

Olberic looked at the note and shook his head.  “Perhaps I should send you to Cyrus. I’m sure he would have a grand time unraveling your mystery.”

He spent a moment longer regarding it before taking out two sheets of paper.  On one, he copied the letter as closely as he could; the second was a brief letter asking the scholar to turn all his focus on figuring out what the obfuscated message contained.  

_I’m sure he’s thrilled at all the mysteries I have been sending him,_ Olberic thought as he addressed and sealed the envelope.  _Perhaps I will be lucky and a messenger has come by town._

His shirt wasn’t quite dry yet, but he could at least wear his surcoat.  He threw that on over his pants, strapped on his boots and sword, and left his home behind.  

The day really was quite beautiful--the sky a bright, cloudless blue, the wind soft and pleasantly fragrant, the laughter of the village children carried along with it.  

_All this was nearly destroyed by a crazed woman and an evil god,_ Olberic thought as he readjusted his sword as he walked down the stairs towards the tavern and inn.  _But, now...will my presence destroy it or prevent its destruction?  Will assassins and mercenaries keep coming after the town because I am in it, or will matters be worse if I leave?_   

He entered the tavern just as a familiar messenger was leaving it--not Elizabeta, but a reliable one.

“Are you headed towards Atlasdam?” Olberic asked.

The man nodded.  “Aye, I’m headin’ north.”

“Could you deliver this to Cyrus Albright for me?  He is a professor at the Royal Academy,” Olberic said as he held out the envelope.

“Sure,” the man said and placed it in a pocket in his satchel.

“For your trouble,” Olberic continued, pressing a few leaves into his hand.

_That_ was all the convincing the man needed as he pocketed the money.  “I’ll make sure it gets to him safely, sir.”

“Thank you,” Olberic replied and let the man pass by.

“Ye’ve been writin’ to Cyrus near as often as you’ve been writin’ Erhardt,” Margaret said as Olberic walked over to where a few parcels and letters were spread out before her.

“I have had need of his keen mind,” Olberic replied.

“Your man from Wellspring wrote you again,” Carwyn said and handed the envelope to Olberic, who took it from her.  

“Anyone else?” he asked, turning the envelope over in his hands.

“The three women from Flamesgrace,” Carwyn said, clearly disappointed by Olberic’s lack of reaction as she handed over those envelopes as well.

“Thank you,” Olberic said. “Do either of you need my assistance?” 

Both women shook their heads.

“...then I suppose I shall be off.”

Olberic walked back to his home, checked on his laundry to see how it was drying, and then returned to his abode, closing the door behind him.

He knew he should leave Erhardt’s for last, since it would be all he would be able to think about upon reading, but he opened it before he could stop himself.  It was only a page long which was, frankly, a tad concerning, but hopefully that meant only _good_ things.

_Olberic,_

_I look forward to hearing your stories in person soon, as Midsummer is not that far off. I will make sure that I am ready to depart upon your arrival._

Olberic’s breath caught as he read the two lines again, slowly, until it sunk in that Erhardt had agreed to travel with him.  

“I should not be surprised, and yet…” Olberic trailed off as he continued reading.

_The Lizardmen have been more persistent and troublesome than usual, but I will have matters in order by the time you arrive.  I keep this letter short to prevent you from replying; after all, how silly would it be for your letter to arrive after you? I look forward to meeting in person the characters whom you have described in your letters, and, even more so, seeing you in person.  I know that barely over a year is nothing compared to the eight years we went without seeing each other previously, but it feels like so much longer since I saw you in Riverford. I pray that your travel is safe and swift._

_Yours,_

_-Erhardt_


End file.
